LIBRARY 

University   of   California 

IRVINE 


*  A 


*• 


.  .*,« 


•• 


A  Bundle 

of 

Yarns 


A  Bundle  of  Yarns 


FRED  W.  SHIBLEY 


PROVIDENCE : 

H.    GREGORY 

1899 


es 


COPYRIGHT  1899 

BY 
FRED  W.  SHIBI.EY 


Printed  by 
ROBERT  GRIKVE 
(Journal  of  Commerce  Co.) 
Providence,  R.  I. 


Contents 

PAGE 

Me  an'  Ed  an'  Jane I 

Coin'  to  Market 10 

The  Chivaree 17 

The  Schoolmarm 28 

The  Colt  with  the  Tough  Mouth  .  43 

Scarin'  the  Duke 57 

The  Remarkable  Taste  of  Ebenezer 

Brown 71 

When  Me  an'  Ed  Got  Religion  .  .  93 
The  Persuasive  Eloquence  of  John 

Wesley  Cuff 106 

The  Tale  of  a  Strange  Bed  .  .  .  141 
The  Cold  Girl  from  Bald  Mountain  157 

The  Calgary  Poet 168 

The  Willipers  at  Newport  .  .  .186 
The  Willipers  at  the  Pier  .  .  .  206 
The  Willipers'  Thanksgiving  .  .  224 
The  Wolf  at  the  Door  .  .  .  .239 


Me  an'  Ed  an'  Jane 

When  me  an'  Ed  an'  Jane  was  just 
little  fellers  (I  was  two  years  older  than 
Ed,  and  Ed  was  two  years  older  than 
Jane),  we  didn't  have  the  fancy  toys  to 
amuse  ourselves  with  that  children  have 
now-days.  Why,  I  don't  believe  we  ever 
received  a  present  except  at  Christmas,  and 
you  must  remember  our  father  was  a  good 
Christian  man  and  class  leader  to  boot. 

We  used  to  set  our  caps  for  Christmas, 
the  whole  pasel  of  us.  Set  'em  on  the 
center  table  in  the  parlor  and  go  to  sleep 
expectin'  to  find  marvellous  things  in 
them  in  the  mornin'.  We  usually  found 
a  few  bulls'-eyes  and  a  dozen  or  so  nuts  and 
raisins.  But  we  were  happy  just  the  same, 
and  enjoyed  ourselves  about  as  well  as  the 
average. 

i 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Jane  was  always  with  us,  and  a  clip  she 
was.  I  remember  once,  just  after  thresh- 
in' — you  know,  we  lived  on  a  farm,  three 
hundred  acres  it  was,  twenty  miles  from 
the  nearest  city,  in  a  typical  country  neigh 
borhood.  Well,  as  I  was  goin'  to  tell  you 
about  Jane :  One  time  just  after  threshin', 
me  an'  Ed  an'  Jane  crawled  up  on  the 
roof  of  the  barn  and  jumped  down  on  the 
big  straw  stack  in  the  barnyard.  Any  of 
you  that  ever  saw  a  straw  stack,  knows  it  is 
built  like  a  cone — big  at  the  bottom  and 
little  at  the  top.  Well,  we  jumped  down 
on  the  straw  stack,  and  then  it  occurred  to 
Ed  that  it  might  be  an  interestin'  experi 
ence  to  slide  down  the  stack.  He  tried 
it,  and  came  out  all  right.  Then  I  tried 
it  and  landed  fair,  and  right  after  me  came 
Jane  with  a  whoop  and  her  petticoats  flyin'. 
It  was  fine,  for  you  see,  about  five  feet 
from  the  ground  the  stack  was  built  up 
straight  like  a  wall,  and  when  we  came  to 
this  point  in  the  slide  we  shot  out  into  the 
air  like  as  if  we  was  on  a  toboggan  slide. 

2 


ME  AN'  ED  AN'  JANE 

We  hadn't  found  anything  for  many  a 
day  quite  equal  to  that  stack  as  a  fun  pro 
ducer;  so  up  we  goes  on  the  barn  again, 
down  we  jumps  on  the  stack,  and  away  we 
goes  on  the  slide  to  the  ground. 

Now  it  happened  that  there  was  some 
cows  feedin'  in  the  barnyard,  but  we 
hadn't  noticed  'em,  and  these  cows  kept 
edgin'  'round  the  stack  toward  our  slide- 
way.  Well,  now  you  know,  after  we  had 
been  up  and  down  half  a  dozen  times  or 
so,  we  got  to  yellin'  like  wild  Injuns  and 
seein'  who  could  get  'round  first.  The  last 
round,  Ed  struck  fair  and  jumped  aside ; 
I  followed  him  and  also  jumped,  for  I 
expected  Jane  was  right  after  me,  but  she 
wasn't.  She  was  standin'  on  top  of  the 
stack,  holdin'  both  hands  above  her  head 
and  shoutin' :  "  Watch  me  come,  boys  ! 
Watch  me  come  !  " 

Now,  just  as  she  said  those  words,  a 
fat  mulley  cow  walked  leisurely  forward 
directly  in  front  of  us,  and  as  Jane  came 
down  she  struck  kerflop  right  on  top  of 

3 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

that  mulley  cow.  Yes,  sir,  fair  on  top  as 
you  ever  see ;  and  with  a  wild  blat,  the 
cow  started  for  the  lane,  Jane  hangin'  on 
and  yellin'  for  all  she  was  worth.  Ed  laid 
right  down  in  the  straw  and  shrieked  with 
laughter,  and  I  was  grinnin'  from  ear  to 
ear,  when  who  do  you  think  we  saw,  just 
as  Jane  and  her  mulley  cow  disappeared 
over  the  hill  in  the  lane,  but  father,  stand- 
in'  in  the  drive-house  door. 

"  What  are  you  boys  laughin'  at  ?  "  he 
said,  stern  as  a  judge. 

Ed  only  laughed  the  louder,  but  I  be 
gan  to  feel  mighty  serious. 

"  Nothin'  particular,  sir,"  I  said. 

Then  he  asked,  sudden  like  :  "  Where's 
Jane?" 

"  She's  gone  over  the  hill  in  the  lane," 
I  said. 

"  What  in  the  world  has  she  gone  over 
there  for  ?  "  he  asked. 

Ed  was  now  lookin'  solemn,  too. 

"  Please,  sir,"  he  said,  "  will  we  go  and 
fetch  her  back  ?  " 


ME  AN'  ED  AN'  JANE 

We  didn't  wait  for  his  expression  of 
permission,  but  streaked  it  up  the  lane 
as  fast  as  our  little  legs  could  carry  us. 
We  found  Jane  pickin'  a  thistle  out  of  her 
foot,  near  the  sheep  pond. 

"  Say,  boys ! "  she  cried,  the  moment 
she  saw  us,  "  you  missed  the  best  part  of 
it!" 

"You  ain't  hurt?"  I  asked. 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  I  jumped  off  when 
I'd  gone  as  far  as  I  wanted  to.  But,  say, 
boys,  did  you  watch  me  sail  out  of  the  barn 
yard?" 

I  tell  you,  Jane  was  a  great  girl.  An 
other  time  I  remember,  me  an'  Ed  an' 
Jane  raised  a  pet  steer.  It  was  really 
Jane's  steer,  for  father  was  mighty  fond 
of  her,  and  he'd  let  her  do  what  he'd  whale 
us  for  doin'.  This  steer  grew  up  to  be 
very  tame,  and  Sime  Snider,  who  was  our 
hired  man,  rigged  up  a  harness  for  him, 
and  we  used  to  hitch  the  steer  to  a  big 
red  hand-sleigh,  which  had  always  been  in 
the  family,  and  make  it  haul  in  our  fire 

5 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

wood  from  the  wood  pile  to  the  kitchen 
door.  That  was  our  regular  work  each 
day,  fillin'  up  the  big  wood  box  behind 
the  kitchen  stove,  and  what  we  had  once 
hated  like  sin  to  do,  became  a  pleasure 
when  we  had  taught  the  steer  to  haul  the 
sleigh. 

Well,  one  night  after  we  had  heaped 
up  the  wood  box,  we  thought  we  would  see 
what  the  steer  could  do  as  a  trotter,  so  we 
piled  on  the  sleigh,  and  I  took  the  reins  and 
away  we  went  up  the  road.  The  steer 
trotted  fine,  and  we  was  havin'  a  big  time, 
when  it  occurred  to  Ed  that  this  was  too 
much  fun  to  be  enjoyed  by  just  us  three, 
so  I  hauled  up  at  a  neighbor's  and  Ed 
went  in  to  get  a  boy  and  girl  he  had,  and 
who  was  about  our  age.  Pretty  soon 
they  came  out,  muffled  up  well,  and  their 
father  with  'em.  He  looked  our  rig  over 
with  a  grin  on  his  face,  and  then  he  looked 
at  the  steer.  His  face  grew  solemn  at 
once. 

"Why,  boys,"  he  said,  gravely,  "don't 
6 


ME  AN'  ED  AN'  JANE 

you  know  that  you  can  be  arrested  and 
fined  for  drivin'  on  the  highway  without 
bells?" 

My  jaw  fell.      I  never  thought  of  bells. 

"  We  ain't  got  any  bells,"  I  returned, 
"except  our  best  double  harness  bells, 
and  we  couldn't  use  them. 

"Well,  I  think  I  can  fix  you  out  all 
right,"  he  said,  and  went  into  his  drive 
house,  comin'  out  presently  with  an  old 
string  of  bells  that  must  have  been  made  in 
the  year  one.  They  started  with  a  bell  as 
large  as  your  fist  in  the  middle  of  the 
string  and  tapered  up  both  ways,  and  they 
was  a  whole  brass  band  when  they  jingled. 
He  tied  these  bells  around  the  body  of 
the  steer,  our  invited  guests  snuggled 
down  between  Ed  an'  Jane,  I  chirped  to 
the  steer,  and  away  we  went  up  the  road 
past  the  schoolhouse.  I  said  we  went,  but 
if  I'd  said  we  flew,  it  would  be  nearer 
the  truth,  for  the  minute  the  steer  heard 
that  string  of  bells  strike  up  in  wild  mel 
ody,  it  gave  one  blat  and  lit  out  for  all  it 

7 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

was  worth.  A  scarter  steer  you  never 
saw.  I  hung  on  to  the  lines  with  all  my 
strength,  but  it  was  no  use ;  the  steer  was 
runnin'  away! 

It  was  one  thing  to  be  run  away  with 
by  a  steer  which  found  itself  suddenly 
transformed  into  a  musical  machine,  and 
another  to  live  under  the  bombardment 
of  snow  balls  shot  back  at  us  from  the 
steer's  flyin'  hoofs.  The  others  turned 
their  faces  and  hung  on,  but  I  kept  one 
eye  open  ahead. 

Well,  now  you  know,  we  hadn't  gone 
the  width  of  a  farm  when  what  should  I 
see  comin'  toward  us  but  old  Henry  Sim- 
monds  and  his  wife  in  a  cutter !  There 
was  only  one  track,  and  the  snow  was 
three  feet  deep  on  either  side.  In  such  a 
case,  the  way  to  pass  is  for  one  to  turn 
out  as  far  as  possible  and  wait  while  the 
other  crept  slowly  past.  Our  steer  was 
not  standin'  on  ceremony,  and  he  needed 
the  middle  of  the  road.  Old  Mr.  Sim- 
monds  had  turned  out  as  far  as  he  dared 
8 


ME  AN'  ED  AN'  JANE 

in  the  limited  time  at  his  disposal,  but  it 
wasn't  far  enough,  and  as  we  flew  by  we 
just  took  one  runner  off  his  cutter  as 
pretty  as  anything  you  ever  saw.  We 
didn't  stop  to  ask  how  badly  the  old  lady 
was  hurt,  but  we  saw  her  flyin'  into  a 
snow  bank.  On  up  the  road  we  went, 
until  the  poor  steer  run  himself  to  his 
limit,  and  then  he  flopped  down  in  the 
road  with  one  hopeless  blat.  When  he 
recovered  his  wind  I  unhitched  the  bells 
and  we  turned  the  sleigh  around  and  came 
home,  the  steer  trottin'  as  gentle  as  a 
lamb. 

It  cost  father  $40  for  repairs  on  Mr. 
Simmond's  cutter,  but  he  made  the  neigh 
bor  who  had  given  us  the  bells  pay  half, 
as  he  claimed  it  was  his  fault.  No,  I 
don't  know  what  became  of  the  bells.  I 
never  saw  them  again. 


Coin'    to    Market 

When  I  was  only  fourteen  an'  Ed 
twelve,  father  used  to  get  us  up  at  five  of 
a  cold  winter's  mornin',  and  start  us  off 
for  the  city  with  a  load  of  potatoes  for 
market.  By  gravy!  it  was  cold.  Me 
an'  Ed  would  stand  around  and  shiver 
and  knock  our  heels  together,  while  father 
and  Sime  Snider  loaded  the  bags  of  pota 
toes  into  the  big  bob-sleigh ;  and  after 
a  bowl  of  supawn  and  milk  and  a  few 
hot  pancakes,  away  we  would  start,  with  a 
dollar  and  twenty  cents  for  expenses, — 
fifty  cents  for  baiting  the  horses  in  the 
city,  fifty  cents  for  our  dinners,  ten  cents 
for  toll,  and  ten  cents  for  Joe  Babcock, 
who  kept  a  tavern  half  way  in. 

It  was  our  custom  to  stop  at  Joe's  both 
goin'  in  or  comin'  out,  to  spell  the  horses 
10 


COIN'  TO  MARKET 

and  warm  our  ringers  and  toes,  for  I  tell 
you  by  the  time  we  got  to  his  place  we 
would  be  two  pretty  cold  boys.  Father 
instructed  us  to  hand  Joe  the  ten  cents, 
as  he  felt  the  tavern  keeper  should  be  paid 
a  little  somethin'  for  the  use  of  his  shed 
an'  furnishin'  a  warm  fire. 

Both  me  an'  Ed  felt  kind  of  sheepish 
about  handin'  Joe  the  ten  cents,  for  we 
felt  it  wasn't  just  customary,  and  as  we 
considered  that  father  was  such  a  religious 
man,  and  consequently  ignorant  of  the 
genial  customs  of  men  of  the  world,  we 
decided  to  follow  our  own  judgment  and 
do  the  thing  up  proper  by  havin'  a  five- 
cent  drink  apiece  over  the  bar  like  men, 
and  thus  show  a  generous  patronage  of 
the  house. 

The  mornin'  I  am  goin'  to  tell  you 
about  we  stopped  at  Joe's  goin'  in,  but 
didn't  have  our  drink,  decidin'  that  we 
would  probably  enjoy  it  better  in  the 
afternoon.  So  we  went  into  the  city,  sold 
our  load  of  potatoes  in  the  public  market, 
1 1 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

had  our  dinner  and  fed  the  horses  all 
right,  and  were  just  about  to  start  for 
home  when  Ed  thought  of  a  stick  of  gum 
he'd  promised  to  bring  home  to  Jane.  I 
didn't  have  an  extra  cent ;  neither  had  he. 
So  all  we  could  do  was  to  spend  five  of 
the  ten  cents  we  had  saved  with  which  to 
patronize  Joe  Babcock.  Ed  bought  the 
gum  and  we  borrowed  no  trouble,  such 
being  our  natures  at  that  time. 

It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon — clear  as  a 
bell,  and  so  cold  that  the  snow  cracked  as 
the  steel  runners  of  the  bob-sleigh  passed 
over  it.  We  boys  didn't  particularly  mind 
the  cold  just  then,  as  we'd  had  a  good 
dinner  and  were  not  yet  many  miles  out. 
The  horses  jogged  along,  me  drivin' — I 
always  drove — and  Ed  sittin'  wrapped  in 
the  buffalo  robe  to  his  ears,  dreamin'  of 
something  or  other,  when  bump !  we 
struck  on  the  bright  iron  rails  of  the  Grand 
Trunk.  We  were  upon  the  Teterville 
Crossing. 

It  had  always  been  our  custom  when 
12 


COIN'  TO  MARKET 

nearing  this  crossing  to  turn  our  heads 
either  side  and  watch  for  approachin' 
trains,  for  this  was  a  particularly  danger 
ous  spot,  several  people  havin'  been  killed 
there. 

Well,  when  we  struck  the  rails,  Ed 
waked  up  with  a  start,  and  lookin'  to  the 
right,  saw  the  Chicago  express  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  off  bearin'  down  upon  us 
with  a  roar.  Without  a  moment's  con 
sideration  for  the  distance,  he  sprang  to 
his  feet,  and  liftin'  both  hands,  waved 
them  wildly  at  the  engine,  shoutin'  at  the 
top  of  his  voice — 

"  I  say  !     I  say  !  " 

I  nearly  fell  from  the  seat  laughin,'  for 
you  know,  we  weren't  more  than  a  couple 
of  seconds  on  the  track.  Ed  looked 
mighty  sheepish,  and  Jane  rolled  on  the 
floor  when  I  described  to  her  Ed's  frantic 
attempt  at  stoppin'  the  Chicago  express 
by  «  I  say  !  I  say  !  " 

Well,  we  finally  came  within  sight  of 
Joe's,  and  me  an'  Ed  had  to  take  into 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

serious  consideration  the  crisis  that  awaited 
us.  Two  drinks  would  cost  ten  cents, 
and  we  only  had  five. 

"  I  tell  you  what  we'll  do,  Ed,"  I  pro 
posed  ;  "  I  don't  care  particularly  about 
the  drink,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  replied. 

"  Well,  one  of  us  has  got  to  take  a 
drink,  and  only  one,  for  we've  just  got 
five  cents.  So,  supposin'  you  step  up  and 
take  it?" 

"  I  don't  want  it,  George,"  he  said. 
"  You  take  it." 

"  Well,  then,"  I  went  on,  "if  you  feel 
sure  you  don't  want  the  drink,  I  s'pose 
I'll  have  to  take  it;  but  you  know,  it'll 
look  kind  of  mean  for  me  to  step  up  to 
the  bar  alone,  so,  s'posin'  when  I  step  up, 
you'll  be  sittin'  by  the  stove,  and  I'll  say, 
1  Ed,  won't  you  have  somethin'  ? '  cordial 
like,  you  know,  and  you'll  say,  careless 
like, f  No,  thank  you  ;  I  guess  not  to-day.' 
That'll  blind  Joe's  eyes,  you  see." 

"All  right,"  Ed  said.    "That'll  suit  me." 

14 


COIN'  TO  MARKET 

So,  when  we  came  to  Joe's,  we  put  the 
horses  under  the  shed,  covered  'em  warmly 
and  went  into  the  hotel  to  warm  our  own 
stiffened  joints.  After  I'd  got  nice  and 
comfortable,  I  gave  Ed  a  wink  and 
marched  up  to  the  bar,  behind  which  Joe 
was  standin'. 

"  Pretty  cold  day,  Joe,"  I  said.    "  Guess 
I'll  have  a  drink  to  warm  up,"  and   then 
turnin  'to   Ed,  who  sat  dutifully  by  the 
stove,  his  feet  on  the  damper,  I  said : 
"Will  you  have  a  drink,  Ed?" 
"  Well,    George,   seem'   as   it's   you,   I 
don't  care  if  I  do,"  Ed  drawled  out,  and 
saunterin'  up  to   the   bar,  poured   out   a 
drink  unconcerned  as  you  please,  without 
ever  lookin'  at  me. 

Joe  saw  I  was  rattled,  and  said  he : 
"  George,  what  you  goin'  to  have?" 
So,  while  I  felt  mean  enough  to  sink 
through  the  floor,  I  told  him  I  only  had 
five  cents,  and  was  just  workin'  a  bluff  on 
Ed.     Joe    laughed    till    the    tears    rolled 
down   his   fat  cheeks,  and  then   declared 

15 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

that  the  drinks  was  on  him,  and  wouldn't 
take  a  cent. 

"Your  father'll  limber  up  one  of  these 
days,  boys,"  he  said,  "  but  a  little  change 
in  the  pocket  won't  look  so  big  to  you 
then." 


"The   Chivaree" 

When  any  young  couple  in  the  neigh 
borhood  got  married,  we  always  gave  'em 
a  chivaree.  No,  I  don't  know  where  the 
word  came  from,  but  that's  what  we  called 
it.  It  wasn't  the  custom  then  to  make 
very  lengthy  weddin'  trips ;  from  the  old 
to  the  new  home,  at  the  head  of  a  long 
procession  of  top  buggies  or  cutters,  as 
the  season  might  be,  was  about  the  size  of 
it,  and  the  day  after  the  weddin',  Mary 
put  on  her  calico  and  John  his  homespun, 
and  the  romance  dwindled  down  into 
solid  happiness. 

It  was  the  first  night  at  the  new  home, 
wherever  it  might  be,  that  the  chivaree 
took  place,  and  we  boys  used  to  make  it 
warm,  I  tell  you. 

Well,  the  night    I'm  goin'  to  tell  you 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

about,  a  feller  by  the  name  of  Lem  Silver 
had  married  a  girl  from  the  next  concession 
named  Polly  Hegadorn,  and  had  brought 
her  home  to  live  with  his  old  folks.  Old 
Cyrene  Silver,  Lem's  father,  was  a  crusty, 
tight-fisted  customer,  and  none  of  the 
boys  wasted  much  love  on  him.  So  we 
had  planned,  the  moment  we  heard  of  the 
approachin'  weddin',  to  wake  Uncle  Cy 
rene  up  a  bit  and  make  him  shell  out  five 
dollars,  the  customary  tip. 

Father  somehow  heard  of  the  threat 
ened  chivaree,  and  on  the  evenin'  in 
question,  after  supper,  while  me  an'  Ed 
was  sittin'  innocent  as  two  lambs  by  the 
cook  stove,  he  said  to  us : 

"  Boys,  I  hear  there's  goin'  to  be  a 
chivaree  up  to  Cyrene  Silver's  to-night. 
Now,  I  want  you  to  distinctly  understand 
that  you're  not  goin',"  and  he  added  as  a 
clincher — "  if  I  ever  hear  of  you  attendin' 
one  of  them  disgraceful  affairs,  I'll  tan 
your  jackets  for  you." 

Then  he  sat  down  to  read  the  Christian 


THE  CHIVAREE 

Guardian,  while  me  an'  Ed  exchanged  sly 
winks,  and  Jane  made  eyes  at  us  from 
across  the  cook  stove. 

At  eight  o'clock  we  went  to  bed,  solemn 
as  mice,  and  it  wasn't  long  before  we 
heard  father  windin'  up  the  clock,  puttin' 
out  the  dog  and  lockin'  up  for  the  night. 

We  waited  half  an  hour  longer,  and 
then  slid  out  of  bed,  all  dressed,  opened 
the  window,  crawled  out,  and  scooted  up 
the  road  to  Will  Tinker's,  where  we  had 
previously  agreed  to  meet  and  black  up. 
Oh,  yes,  we  always  blacked  up.  It 
wouldn't  have  been  a  chivaree  done  in 
proper  style  if  we  hadn't. 

When  the  crowd  was  ready  we  started, 
with  tin  horns,  cow  bells,  horse  pistols, 
old  army  muskets,  wash  boilers,  and  every 
blame  thing  you  can  think  of  as  a  likely 
ear-splitter. 

At  the  four  corners  we  met  a  gang  of 
fellers  from  the  next  concession — friends 
of  the  bride — rigged  out  in  fantastic  gar 
ments,  and  haulin'  a  small  cannon  which 

19 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

they  had  borrowed  from  an  Orange  lodge 
for  the  occasion.  They  fell  in  with  us 
readily  enough,  and  together  we  swooped 
down  on  the  home  of  the  happy  couple. 

Will  Tinker,  who  always  led  us  in  these 
chivarees,  was  chosen  to  make  the  speech 
after  the  first  salute,  for  he  was  a  natural- 
born  speaker  and  had  a  loud  voice.  So 
we  grouped  around  him  in  the  front  yard, 
and,  at  command,  began  a  symphony  of 
tin  pans,  tin  horns,  conch  shells,  and  cow 
bells,  with  the  occasional  poppin'  of  a 
horse  pistol  as  a  variation.  It  didn't  raise 
a  bird  !  The  blinds  were  closely  drawn, 
and  we  could  only  see  traces  of  a  dim 
light  in  the  sittin'  room. 

Will  looked  wistfully  at  the  cannon, 
but  resisted  the  temptation,  and  ordered 
another  onslaught,  with  the  muskets  this 
time  for  the  climax.  You  know  those 
old,  long,  army  muskets  ? — six  feet  tall  an' 
capable  of  holdin'  a  handful  of  powder? 
Lord  !  how  they  did  roar  when  they  came 
in !  One  of  the  firers  was  kicked  clean 
20 


THE  CHIVAREE 

through  the  front  gate  out  into  the  road. 

But  they  did  the  business,  for  we  heard 
the  front  door  open  and  saw  Uncle  Cyrene 
standin'  bare-headed  on  the  stoop.  With 
a  wave  of  the  hand,  Will  Tinker  com 
manded  silence,  and  began  his  usual 
speech,  flowery  as  a  hot-house  and  every 
word  a  jaw-breaker.  But  the  old  man 
wouldn't  listen. 

"  Shet  up,  you  fool !  "  he  yelled,  "and 
listen  to  me.  I  won't  stand  any  of  this 
dum  tomfoolery  on  my  premises — do  ye 
hear  ?  And  ef  the  whole  pasel  of  you  ain't 
out  o'  my  yard  in  one  minute,  I'll  hev  ye 
all  up  for  assault  and  battery." 

"  Pay  toll  or  stand  treat ! "  Will  hol 
lered  back,  defiantly. 

"  Not  a  cent,  or  a  mug  o'  cider,"  Uncle 
Cyrene  replied,  and  returnin'  to  the  house, 
slammed  the  door  in  our  faces. 

Then  we  started  to  sing  a  song  Ed  had 
made  up  about  Lem  and  Polly,  which 
we'd  all  learned  by  heart.  A  mighty 
good  song  it  was,  and  I  wish  I  could  re- 

21 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

member  a  verse  or  so,  but  I  never  could 
recall  the  words  of  a  song. 

This  didn't  soothe  the  troubled  waters, 
and  so  the  leader  of  the  boys  from  the 
next  concession  determined  to  bring  the 
cannon  into  play.  It  was  hauled  under 
the  window  of  the  sittin'  room  and  loaded 
to  the  muzzle ;  then  all  stood  back  while 
it  was  fired. 

I'll  never  forget  till  my  dyin'  day  the 
noise  that  cannon  made.  It  just  tore 
things  to  pieces  and  broke  every  pane  of 
glass  in  the  sittin'  room  window.  We 
were  all  about  scart  to  death,  but  it 
scart  old  Cyrene  worse'n  any  of  us,  for 
he  came  totterin'  out  from  the  front  door 
pale  as  a  sheet,  with  a  five-dollar  bill  in 
his  hand.  He  couldn't  open  his  mouth, 
he  was  that  scart,  but  we  caught  a 
glimpse  of  Lem  and  Polly  peekin'  through 
the  open  door,  grinnin'  from  ear  to  ear; 
so  this  cheered  us  up,  and  Will  delivered 
his  speech,  while  the  old  man  stood  and 
took  it  gentle  as  a  kitten. 

22 


THE  CHIVAREE 

We  took  the  five  dollars  and  gave  half 
to  the  boys  from  the  next  concession, 
hauled  the  cannon  out  into  the  road,  fired 
a  partin'  salute,  and  started  for  home. 

Everything  so  far  had  gone  well,  but  it 
wasn't  to  end  so,  for  just  as  we  got  to 
the  four  corners,  Pete  Hawley,  one  of  our 
fellers,  picked  a  quarrel,  as  he  was  always 
doin',  with  a  boy  twice  his  size  from  the 
other  crowd,  and  nothin'  would  do  but 
they  must  fight  it  out.  We  smaller  boys 
crawled  up  on  a  lumber  pile  beside  a 
cooper  shop,  to  see  the  fun.  Now  you 
must  keep  this  lumber  pile  in  mind,  for  it 
had  a  lot  to  do  with  subsequent  events. 
You've  all  seen  the  kind  of  lumber  pile  it 
was,  I  guess — a  three-sided,  holler  affair, 
you  know — the  boards  overlappin'  at  each 
corner,  the  lumber  bein'  piled  this  way  to 
season.  It  was  probably  twelve  feet  high. 
Anyway,  we  climbed  up  to  the  top  board, 
so  as  to  see  the  fight,  and  with  us  came  a 
long-geared  boy  from  the  next  concession 
crowd, — one  of  them  growed-in-a-night 

23 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

kind  of  boys.  I  see  him  now,  sittin'  there 
in  the  moonlight,  his  lank  knees  up  to  his 
chin,  for  his  heels  was  stuck  in  between 
the  second  and  third  board.  Pete  Hawley 
won  the  fight — he  always  did — and  down 
we  came  from  our  roost  and  scampered  for 
home. 

Me  an'  Ed  was  about  fagged  out,  I 
tell  you,  when  we  crawled  through  the 
window  into  our  room,  and  undressin', 
fell  into  bed.  I  never  knew  a  thing  after 
I  struck  the  piller  till  I  heard  father's 
sharp  voice  from  the  kitchen, — 

"  Get  up,  there,  you  boys,  and  tend  to 
your  chores." 

I  'rose  by  instinct,  hauled  on  my 
trousers,  and  went  out  into  the  kitchen, 
rubbin'  my  eyes. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  not  to  go  to  that 
chivaree?"  was  the  first  words  of  greetin', 
an'  father  was  standin'  over  me  with  a 
half-raised  stick  of  stove  wood. 

"  We  ain't  been  to  no  chivaree,"  I 
mumbled  in  reply. 

24 


THE  CHIVAREE 

"  How  dare  you  lie  to  me?  "  he  cried. 

"  I  aint  lyin',  I  said,  stoutly. 

"  Oh,  I'll  warm  you  boys  for  this ! "  he 
went  on ;  first,  for  disobeyin'  me  an'  then 
lyin'  about  it." 

"  But,  sir,"  I  managed  to  say,  "  how 
could  we  have  gone  to  the  chivaree  when 
we  haven't  been  out  of  our  beds  all 
night." 

"Haven't  been  out  of  your  beds  all 
night !"  father  cried.  "To  think  that  a 
son  of  mine  should  be  such  a  liar ! " 

I  couldn't  imagine  what  made  him  so 
positive,  for  I  knew  that  if  he'd  missed 
us  durin'  the  night  he  would  have  either 
gone  after  us,  or  been  waitin'  our  return, 
for  with  all  his  apparent  harshness,  us  two 
boys  was  the  apple  of  his  eye,  and  he 
couldn't  have  slept  a  wink. 

"  Come  out  of  there,  you  ! "  he  shouted 
at  Ed,  and  I  turned  an'  saw  poor  Ed  come 
stumblin'  from  the  room,  still  half  asleep, 
an'  diggin*  his  knuckles  into  his  eyes. 
The  mystery  was  explained.  Ed's  face 

25 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

was  as  black  as  a  nigger's,  save  where  the 
piller  had  rubbed  some  of  the  stuff  off. 
We  had  forgot  to  wash  ! 

I  tell  you,  we  got  a  trouncin'  for  that 
affair,  and  Jane  stood  in  the  wood-house 
door  an'  bawled  in  sympathy  while  we 
was  gettin'  it.  But  pshaw !  we  didn't 
mind  a  little  thing  like  that,  and  was  all 
over  it  in  an  hour. 

About  the  lumber  pile  ?  Say  !  I  nearly 
forgot  that,  an'  it's  really  the  best  part  of 
the  story. 

That  was  the  funniest  thing  !  I  can't 
help  laffin'  when  I  think  of  it.  You  re 
member  the  tall,  gawky  boy  I  told  you 
of,  who  climbed  up  an'  sat  beside  us  dur- 
in'  the  fight  ?  Well,  now  you  know,  that 
boy  was  lost  to  sight  from  that  night.  His 
parents  went  wild,  but  the  other  boys 
couldn't  remember  where  they'd  seen  him 
last.  He  was  one  of  them  still,  quiet 
boys,  you  know, — the  kind  of  feller  that 
just  glides  along  an'  never  says  nothin'. 
They  searched  the  woods  high  an'  low, 
26 


THE  CHIVAREE 

and  even  advertised  in  the  papers,  but  no 
boy  turned  up.  I  never  saw  the  neigh 
borhood  so  excited. 

Me  an'  Ed  could  both  tell  a  straight 
story.  We  remembered  him  well  climbin' 
up  the  lumber  pile,  an'  we  left  him  there 
when  we  went  home.  It  was  a  mystery, 
and  after  awhile  even  his  parents  gave  up 
lookin'. 

Now,  where  do  ye  think  they  found 
him  ?  You'd  never  guess.  In  the  middle 
of  that  lumber  pile,  dead  as  a  door-nail ! 
He'd  fell  over  backward  an'  broke  his 
neck.  Did  you  ever  hear  the  like ! 
Course,  me  an'  Ed  felt  sorry  for  him  at 
first,  but  we  didn't  know  him  well,  and 
whenever  we'd  think  of  that  long,  lanky  boy 
sittin'  there  with  his  knees  in  the  air,  an' 
all  of  a  sudden  tumblin'  over  backwards 
into  that  lumber  pile,  we  couldn't  help 
laffin'.  It  was  funny,  I'm  darned  if  it 
wasn't.  But  it  ended  our  chivarees  for 
many  a  long  day. 


27 


The  Schoolmarm 

Did  I  ever  tell  you  about  the  way  we 
fooled  Tish  Brown's  father's  only  brother 
Ebenezer  on  his  own  honey?  Well,  I'll 
tell  you  that  story  after  a  bit,  but  I'm  goin' 
to  tell  you  now  about  Mary  Jane  Brown, 
this  same  Ebenezer's  daughter,  who  once 
taught  school  in  our  neighborhood. 

Ebenezer  Brown  was  a  mighty  religious 
man,  bein'  a  steward  in  the  church,  the 
same  as  father,  an*  when  Mary  Jane  got 
her  certificate  an'  went  for  a  schoolmarm, 
it  worried  her  father  terrible  for  fear  she'd 
forget  the  strict  rules  of  conduct  he'd  laid 
down  to  her  at  home. 

It  so  happened  that  she  was  chosen  to 

teach  in  the  little  red  schoolhouse  in  our 

neighborhood,  and  as  this  was  only  a  few 

miles  from  her  home,  you'd  hardly  think 

28 


THE  SCHOOLMARM 

that  Ebenezer  would  have  thought  that 
his  darlin'  daughter  had  gone  far  away 
from  him  into  the  wide,  sinful  world,  but 
he  did. 

Father  was  head  trustee,  an'  it  was  the 
custom  for  the  teacher  to  start  her  round 
of  boardin'  with  us.  So,  the  day  after 
New  Year's,  Ebenezer  fetched  Mary  Jane 
an'  her  trunk  to  our  place,  and  handed 
her  over  gingerly  to  mother.  Then  he 
found  father  in  the  drive-house  an'  said 
to  him,  very  solemn  : 

"  Stephen,  I've  brought  Mary  Jane  to 
stop  with  you  a  spell,  an'  it's  mighty  glad 
I'd  be  of  placin'  her  in  your  care  an'  that 
of  your  excellent  wife  but  for  one  thing." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  father  asked,  sharply, 
as  was  his  way. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  Ebenezer  went  on, 
"  Mary  Jane's  my  one  ewe  lamb,  an'  I've 
bin  terrible  particklar  about  her  bringin' 
up,  an'  if  I  do  say  it  of  my  own  child,  she 
jest  simply  don't  know  that  there's  sich  a 
thing  as  sin  in  the  world." 
29 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"You  don't  mean  me  to  infer,  Eben- 
ezer,"  father  said,  most  taken  off  his  feet, 
"  that  my  house  ain't  a  fit  place  for  your 
daughter?  " 

"Nothin'  of  the  sort,  nothin'  of  the 
sort,"  returned  Ebenezer,  winkin'  his 
little  eyes  as  if  he'd  caught  a  cinder.  He 
was  the  worse  man  to  wink  his  eyes  you 
ever  see.  "  I  know  you,  Stephen,  to  the 
backbone,"  he  went  on,  "an'  I've  allus 
said  if  there  was  one  woman  more  worthy 
than  another  to  take  the  blessed  sacrament 
it  was  your  wife ;  but  it's  the  boys,  George 
an'  Ed,  that  I'm  afraid  of." 

"What  of  them  ?  "  father  asked,  for  he 
was  techy  on  the  subject  of  me  an'  Ed, 
and  for  all  he  would  dress  us  down  himself 
for  every  little  thing,  he  didn't  relish 
listenin'  to  other  folks  doin'  it. 

"  George  an'  Ed  are  bright  boys,  I 
own,"  Ebenezer  answered,  cautious  like; 
"but  the  truth  is,  Stephen,  that  since 
they've  growed  up  to  what  might  be  called 
young  men,  they've  been  considerably 

30 


THE  SCHOOLMARM 

talked  about,  I  understand,  not  only  in 
this  neighborhood,  but  as  far  away  as 
our  section.  You  do  let  'em  go  about 
considerable,  you  can't  deny  that,  Stephen; 
an'  I've  even  heard  that  they've  a  rig 
apiece  an'  drive  out  to  wait  on  girls  of  a 
Sunday,  jest  as  if  they  was  courtin'.  Why, 
only  last  Sunday  George  was  down  to  see 
my  brother's  girl,  Letitia." 

"  I  don't  see  anything  very  wicked  in 
that,"  father  said,  dryly. 

"  But  that  ain't  it,"  continued  Eben- 
ezer,  evidently  with  a  load  on  his  mind. 
"  Folks  say  they  go  to  dances  an'  public 
parties;  and,  while  far  be  it  from  me  to  say 
what  other  folk's  children  should  be 
'lowed  to  do,  I  want  it  distinctly  under 
stood  that  my  Mary  Jane  shall  never 
dance  a  step  while  I  live.  So  I  ask  you, 
Stephen,  as  brother  Christian  to  brother, 
to  keep  an  eye  on  the  boys  an'  see  that 
they  don't  put  any  wild  notions  in  Mary 
Jane's  head." 

They  had  some  more  talk,  but  that  was 

31 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

the  substance  of  it,  and  father  lectured  me 
an'  Ed  for  an  hour  in  the  barn,  where  we 
all  sat  huskin'  corn,  on  the  strength  of  it. 

Now,  it  kind  of  riled  me  an'  Ed  to  be 
raked  over  the  coals  by  old  Ebenezer 
Brown,  who  had  the  reputation  of  tradin' 
horses  not  strictly  on  points,  and  we 
made  up  our  minds  to  give  Mary  Jane  a 
good  lettin'  alone,  although  she  was  a 
kind  of  cute  little  thing,  an'  we  both 
liked  her. 

We  was  now  long  about  twenty  and 
eighteen,  me  an'  Ed,  and  we  liked  a  good 
time  as  well  as  the  next  one.  Ed  had 
learned  to  play  the  riddle,  and  as  I  could 
"call  off"  fine,  we  was  in  great  demand 
at  all  the  dances  for  as  much  as  five  miles 
around  home. 

There  was  lots  of  dances  that  winter, 
and  we  went  to  most  of  'em.  It's  true, 
we  only  had  one  cutter  between  us,  but 
we  used  to  take  turns  usin'  it,  and  the 
unfortunate  one  had  to  drive  his  girl  in  a 
light  market  sleigh  we  had. 


THE  SCHOOLMARM 

Mary  Jane  saw  us  goin'  and  comin' 
from  these  parties,  and  as  her  cousin  Tish 
used  to  tell  her  everything,  she  knew  we 
was  goin'  to  dances,  an'  that  I  took  Tish 
every  time  we  could  fix  up  a  yarn  that 
would  deceive  the  latter's  father. 

Mary  Jane  got  restless  after  a  bit,  see- 
in'  so  much  fun  goin'  on  under  her  nose 
an'  her  not  in  it.  So  she  up  and  says  to 
me  one  day,  when  I'd  picked  her  up  at  the 
schoolhouse  on  my  way  from  the  village, 
and  was  drivin'  her  home : 

"  George,"  she  says,  "  I  hear  there's 
goin'  to  be  a  party  down  to  Jones's  Mills 
next  Friday  evenin'.' ' 

"  I've  heard  so,  too,"  I  says,  wonderin' 
what  she  was  drivin'  at. 

"  What  kind  of  a  party  is  it  goin'  to 
be  ?  "  she  says. 

"Church  of  England,"  I  says.  "A 
kind  of  house-warmin'  at  the  Stevens's 
for  the  English  Church.  They  set  a  box 
near  the  door,  an'  you  can  drop  in  what 
you  like." 

33 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  Oh,  is  that  all,"  says  Mary  Jane, 
mournful  like.  "  Tish  told  me  it  was 
goin'  to  be  a  dance." 

"  Tish  is  a  great  talker,"  I  says. 

Now,  it  struck  me  that  Mary  Jane 
seemed  quite  cast  down  when  I  didn't 
give  her  any  encouragement  in  the  matter 
of  the  party.  She  sat  silent  for  a  bit,  an' 
then  she  put  up  her  face,  bashful  like  (she 
was  a  mighty  pretty  girl  when  she  looked 
like  that),  and  said  : 

"  It's  awful  stupid  of  me  stayin'  home 
every  night,  and  Tish  and  you  an'  Ed 
and  the  rest  of  the  young  folks  havin' 
such  good  times.  I  just  said  so  to  Tish, 
and  she  said  to  me,  f  Mary  Jane,  you're  a 
little  fool  for  bein'  so  timid.  Why  don't 
you  ask  George  to  take  you  ? '  There, 
now !  " 

"  Not  to  a  dance  !  "  says  I,  horrified. 

"  But  this  ain't  goin'  to  be  a  dance  ; 
just  a  party,"  she  pleaded. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  It's  just  like  this, 
Mary  Jane :  Your  father  would  have  a 

34 


THE  SCHOOLMARM 

fit  if  he  heard  of  you  goin'  anywhere  with 
me  or  Ed.  We're  bad,  wicked  boys,  to 
him,"  I  says. 

"  Pshaw  !  "  she  says,  smilin'  up  at  me. 
"  Father's  an  old  fossil,  that's  what  he  is, 
and  haven't  I  known  you  an'  Ed  for 
years,  and  don't  Tish  go  with  you  every 
where  ? " 

It  occurred  to  me  right  there  an'  then 
that  Mary  Jane  had  been  very  much 
underestimated  by  me  an'  Ed,  and  I  de 
cided  that  if  she  wanted  to  go  to  the 
Church  of  England  party,  I'd  take  her 
an'  let  old  Ebenezer  go  to  the  deuce.  So 
says  I  : 

"  Mary  Jane,  if  you  want  to  go  next 
Friday  evenin',  get  ready  for  it  an'  I'll 
take  you,  though  I  half  promised  to  take 
Tish,  and  it's  Ed's  turn  for  the  cutter." 

"  Tish  won't  mind ;  she  said  she 
wouldn't,"  Mary  Jane  says  in  return,  and 
I  saw  that  Tish  had  been  puttin'  notions 
into  her  good  little  cousin's  head. 

I  tried  to  buy  Ed  off  on  the  cutter,  but 

35 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

it  wouldn't  go,  for  he  had  a  new  girl  in 
mind  for  the  party,  and  wanted  to  go 
in  style.  Ed  was  mighty  selfish  about  the 
cutter  when  it  was  his  turn.  But  to  make 
matters  worse,  what  does  father  an* 
mother  decide  to  do  but  go  visitin'  on 
Friday,  sayin'  they  won't  be  home  till 
long  in  the  evenin',  and  they  knew  me  an' 
Ed  intended  goin'  to  the  party ! 

Ed  laughed  an'  Mary  Jane  cried  when 
they  heard  of  this  last  stroke  ;  but  I  wasn't 
to  be  beat,  'specially  when  Mary  Jane  felt 
so  bad  about  it,  and  had  worked  all  the 
week  on  her  dress. 

So  when  father  an'  mother  drove  off",  I 
cleaned  out  the  big  bob-sleigh — the  box 
was  eighteen  inches  high  and  ten  feet  long, 
— filled  it  half  full  of  clean  rye  straw, 
fixed  the  seat  comfortable,  and  decided  to 
hitch  in  the  span  an'  drive  Mary  Jane  to  the 
party.  I  knew  I  could  sneak  the  bobs  into 
the  Church  shed  where  none  of  the  other 
fellers  would  be  likely  to  spot  me,  for 
we  was  mighty  sensitive  on  the  point 

36 


THE  SCHOOLMARM 

of  our  turnouts  in  them  days,  I  tell  you. 

We  got  to  the  party  all  right,  and  I 
see  that  Mary  Jane  was  enjoyin'  every 
minute  of  it.  They  had  all  kinds  of 
games — good  old  games  they  was — that 
took  the  bashfulness  out  of  a  feller;  and 
the  schoolmarm  went  into  it,  blushin'  but 
happy. 

Long  about  'leven  o'clock  the  older 
folks  began  to  leave  for  home,  and  I  saw 
Ed  goin'  into  the  big  dinin'  room  with  his 
fiddle  under  his  arm.  I  knew  the  trouble 
was  about  to  begin,  for  you  know  all  these 
Church  of  England  parties  was  sure  to  end 
up  in  a  dance. 

I  found  Mary  Jane  talkin'  with  Will 
Tinker  an'  eatin'  a  big  apple,  and  I  called 
her  to  one  side. 

"  Mary  Jane,"  I  says,  very  polite  like, 
"it's  goin'  on  midnight,  and  some  of  the 
folks  are  beginnin'  to  leave.  Don't  you 
think  you'd  better  be  makin'  a  move  to 
wards  puttin'  on  your  things  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,  George  !  "  she  cried,  "  you 

37 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

don't  say  it's  so  late!  I'd  have  guessed 
ten  at  the  latest." 

At  that  moment  I  heard  Ed  draw  the 
bow  across  his  fiddle,  tunin'  up,  and  it 
fairly  made  my  heart  ache. 

"  Must  we  really  be  goin'  ?  "  says  Mary 
Jane,  plaintive  like,  not  pretendin'  to  have 
heard  the  fiddle. 

"To  tell  the  truth,"  says  I,  solemn  as 
a  judge,  "  I'm  surprised  at  this  party. 
They're  turnin'  it  into  a  dance,  I'm 
afraid !  " 

Mary  Jane  looked  horrified.  "  We 
must  go  home  !  "  she  said 

I  don't  know  whether  it  showed  in  my 
face  or  not,  but  I  did  hate  like  a  dog  to 
leave  when  the  fun  was  just  commencin', 
and  I  knew  that  Will  Tinker  would  be 
only  too  glad  to  get  a  chance  of  callin'  off. 
Mary  Jane  evidently  saw  my  distress,  for 
says  she  : 

"  George,  you  don't  want  to  go." 

"  To  be  honest,"  says  I,  "  Mary  Jane, 
I  don't." 

38 


THE  SCHOOLMARM 

"Couldn't  I  just  stand  an'  look  on?" 
she  says. 

My  spirits  rose.  "Yes,"  says  I,  "you 
can  if  you  only  will,  but  your  father'll  skin 
you  if  he  ever  hears  of  it." 

"  Pshaw ! "  says  she  with  that  darin' 
twinkle  of  the  eye.  "  I  guess  I'm  safe 
with  you,  George." 

The  dance  began.  I  called  off  the 
square  an'  the  round  dances,  and  danced 
all  the  waltzes  an'  polkas.  Mary  Jane 
sat  in  a  chair  near  the  dinin'  room  door, 
and  every  time  I  passed  her  she  smiled 
up  at  me  just  as  happy  as  a  kitten. 

Durin'  an  intermission,  while  Ed  was 
eatin'  cake  with  his  new  girl  (and  a  daisy 
she  was — I'd  never  seen  her  before),  I 
went  over  an'  set  down  by  Mary  Jane. 

"  Ain't  it  lovely  to  know  how  to  dance," 
says  she,  all  aglow.  "Oh,  if  I  only  knew 
how ! " 

"  It's  nothin'  to  learn,"  says  I. 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  learn  ? "  says 
she,  earnest  like. 

39 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  Can  a  duck  swim  ?  "  says  I,  laughin'. 

"  Really,"  says  she,  "  do  you  think  I 
could  if  I  tried?" 

Just  then  the  fiddle  started  up  a  waltz. 
I  grabbed  Mary  Jane. 

"Come!"  says  I.  "Now's  your  chance," 
and  we  was  soon  flyin'  round  to  the  music. 
She  was  a  born  dancer.  In  two  whirls 
she  caught  the  step  an'  was  right  with  me. 
Did  she  like  it?  Well,  I  never  saw  a 
happier  girl,  and  I  danced  every  remainin' 
dance  with  her,  lettin'  Will  Tinker  get  all 
the  glory  he  wanted  callin'  off. 

We  started  for  home  at  two  in  the 
mornin'.  The  weather  had  changed  in 
the  night,  and  a  sharp  wind  was  blowin', 
bringin'  with  it  a  fine  sleet  that  stung  the 
face  like  needle  pricks.  We  stood  it  for 
a  mile  or  so,  but  I  see  it  was  punishin' 
Mary  Jane  terrible,  so  I  set  the  seat  back 
three  feet  or  so,  and  told  her  to  sit 
down  in  the  nice  dry  straw  an'  lean  against 
the  seat.  Then  I  tied  the  reins  'round 
the  dashboard,  knowin'  the  horses  would 
40 


THE  SCHOOLMARM 

go  home  all  right,  and  sittin'  down  by 
the  schoolmarm,  pulled  the  buffalo  robe 
over  our  heads,  and  there  we  was,  com 
fortable  as  could  be,  holdin'  hands  like  the 
two  babes  in  the  woods. 

Then  a  peculiar  thing  happened.  I 
heard  the  bell  of  a  far-away  Church  ringin'; 
then  a  voice  callin'  to  me  from  a  high  hill 
— just  the  murmur  of  a  voice — then  a  slow 
poundin' — a  dull,  thumpin'  sound  ;  then 
the  voice  from  the  hill  comin'  nearer  an' 
nearer,  growin'  louder  an'  louder,  till  I 
felt  my  blood  rushin'  into  my  head  and 
my  ears  fairly  deafened  with  the  noise. 
The  voice  was  now  directly  over  me.  I 
opened  my  eyes.  The  buffalo  robe  was 
held  aloft  and  I  heard  father  say, — 
"  Well,  if  this  don't  beat  all !" 
I  looked  about  me.  The  bob-sleigh 
with  the  horses  still  hitched  to  it  was  in 
the  drive-house  at  home,  and  father  was 
standin'  by  the  side  with  one  corner  of  the 
buffalo  robe  in  his  hand.  It  was  broad  day 
light.  I  looked  for  Mary  Jane.  There 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

she  sat  in  the  straw,  her  head  against  the 
cushion  of  the  seat,  sound  asleep,  but  still 
hangin'  tight  to  my  left  hand. 

"  Now,  sir,"  says  father  with  a  grin, 
"what  does  this  mean  ?  " 

It  was  enough  to  make  even  him  smile. 
Me  an'  Mary  Jane  had  gone  to  sleep  the 
minute  almost  we  sat  down  in  the  straw, 
for  neither  of  us  could  remember  a  thing, 
and  the  horses  brought  us  home,  goin' 
into  the  drive-house,  the  doors  of  which 
had  luckily  been  left  open.  Father  comin' 
out  in  the  mornin'  found  the  bob-sleigh 
there,  and  liftin'  the  robe  discovered  the 
two  of  us. 

Say  !  Mary  Jane  wouldn't  look  at  me 
out  of  the  corner  of  her  eye  for  the  next 
fortnight. 


The  Colt  with  the  Tough 
Mouth 

If  there's  one  thing  in  life  which  I've 
enjoyed  more  than  any  other,  it's  been 
the  drivin'  of  fiery  horses.  I've  never  yet 
met  the  horse  which  proved  itself  my 
master,  and  to-day,  old  as  I  am,  I'd  try  a 
fall  with  the  ugliest  horse  you  could  pro 
duce.  I've  been  run  away  with  time  an' 
time  again,  but  the  most  damage  I  ever 
see  done  in  a  runaway  was  caused  by  a 
three-year-old  colt,  behind  which  me  an' 
Tish  Brown  went  to  meetin'  at  Milton 
one  Sunday  evenin'  in  winter,  years  an' 
years  ago,  when  I  was  still  a  young  feller 
on  the  old  farm. 

I  traded  for  this  colt  (he  was  a  big  black, 
with  three  white  feet  an'  a  star  between 
his  eyes)  with  a  Gipsy  who  came  along  our 

43 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

way.  I  was  always  tradin'  horses,  and  as  I 
never  got  the  worse  of  the  bargain,  father 
became  used  to  it  after  awhile,  and  never 
went  into  the  stable  positive  that  he'd  find 
there  the  same  lot  of  horses  he'd  last  seen. 

I  gave  the  Gipsy  a  bay  mare  and  five 
bags  of  oats  for  the  black  colt,  and  I 
thought  I'd  made  my  fortune,  for  a  hand 
somer  colt  you  never  rubbed  your  hands 
over.  He  went  well,  single  or  double, 
and  would  walk  ahead  of  a  plough  like 
the  grand  marshal  of  a  'lection  parade. 
He  only  had  two  faults, — he'd  run  away 
at  the  drop  of  the  hat,  and  his  mouth  was 
that  hard  that  ten  men  couldn't  hold  him 
in  when  he  stretched  out  his  neck  and 
decided  to  take  charge  of  the  subsequent 
proceedin's. 

But  I  liked  that  horse  for  the  very 
pride  of  him  an'  the  devil  in  his  eyes.  I  soon 
discovered  that  he  was  just  as  gentle  as  a 
lamb  as  long  as  his  neck  kept  well  curved 
an'  he  felt  the  reins  was  in  strong  hands ; 
but  if  he  ever  got  a  chance  to  straighten 

44 


COLT  WITH  TOUGH  MOUTH 

out  his  neck  he  wouldn't  do  a  thing  but 
look  about  for  something  to  happen  which 
would  give  him  a  fair  excuse  to  go  up  in 
the  air.  An  ordinary  double  wire  bit  was 
of  no  earthly  use  on  that  colt,  so  I  got  for 
him  a  curb  bit  with  a  camel's  hump  in  the 
middle,  that,  properly  applied,  would  make 
him  set  down  in  the  road  and  ask  for 
mercy. 

Father  swore  the  colt  would  be  the 
death  of  me,  and  he  positively  forbid  Ed 
to  draw  a  rein  on  him,  and  Ed  wasn't  any 
too  anxious,  'specially  as  just  then  he  was 
courtin'  a  girl  from  the  next  concession — 
the  same  girl  I  told  you  he  took  to  the 
Church  of  England  sociable, — and  the 
courtin'  was  in  such  an  advanced  con 
dition  that  he  could  only  spare  one  hand 
for  drivin',  and  old  Darby  was  good 
enough  for  him. 

But  there  was  one  person  besides  me 
who  wasn't  afraid  to  ride  behind  the  black 
colt,  and  that  was  Tish  Brown.  Tish  was 
'fraid  of  nothin',  and  she  fell  in  love  with 

45 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

the  colt  at  first  sight.  I  let  her  drive  him 
once  before  I  got  the  curb  bit,  and  do  you 
know,  she  couldn't  bend  her  elbows  for 
nigh  a  week,  but  she  held  him  in,  all  the 
same. 

The  curb  bit,  however,  done  the  busi 
ness,  and  there  wasn't  a  peaceabler  horse 
from  that  time  on  in  the  neighborhood. 
When  I'd  hitch  him  up  and  trip  the  curb 
into  his  mouth,  he'd  look  at  me  humble 
like,  just  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Now, 
George,  for  the  love  of  Heaven,  do  have 
a  care  how  hard  you  yank  on  the  lines." 

That  winter  they  was  holdin'  protracted 
meetin's  down  to  Milton,  and  it  was  con 
sidered  quite  the  proper  thing  to  drive 
your  best  girl  there  at  least  Sunday  night. 
Me  an'  Tish  wasn't  any  too  partic'lar 
about  goin',  but  the  old  folks  insisted  on 
our  representin'  the  family,  and  the  old 
man's  word  was  law,  'specially  when  I  was 
feedin'  my  horse  on  his  oats  a  couple  of 
nights  each  week. 

Me  an'  Ed  both  havin'  a  girl,  it  natur- 
46 


COLT  WITH  TOUGH  MOUTH 

ally  left  Jane  out  in  the  cold,  for  father 
considered  she  was  too  young  to  have  a 
beau,  much  to  her  sorrow,  as  there  was 
two  or  three  of  the  neighbors'  boys  peekin' 
through  the  pickets  at  her ;  for  Jane,  if  I 
do  say  it,  was  by  long  odds  the  prettiest 
girl  in  the  neighborhood,  her  cheeks  gom' 
pink  an'  white  at  a  word ;  and  her  eyes — 
well,  her  husband  ain't  got  over  lovin'  her 
to  this  day. 

Jane  consequently  was  eternally  naggin' 
at  me  an'  Ed  to  take  her  out  with  us  once 
an'  a  while,  but  we  couldn't  quite  see  it 
her  way  just  then.  She'd  never  seen  Ed's 
girl,  but  she  knew  Tish  an'  hated  her  from 
the  first,  though  there  was  absolutely  no 
sense  in  her  doin'  so.  But  hate  her  she 
did,  and  she  was  eternally  wishin'  the 
black  colt  would  spill  her  out  some  time 
to  her  undoin'.  Jane  was  a  little  Tartar, 
I  tell  you,  an'  mighty  nigh  she  come  to 
havin'  her  wish,  as  I'm  goin'  to  tell  you. 

Well,  this  Sunday  I  hitched  up  the 
black  colt  to  the  cutter  an'  drove  over  to 

47 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Tish's  for  supper.  After  the  meal  we 
drove  down  to  Milton  as  usual  an'  put 
the  colt  in  the  shed. 

The  whole  neighborhood  was  out  that 
night,  for  a  preacher  from  the  city  was  to 
lead  the  meetin,'  and  it  was  looked  upon 
as  a  grand  round-up  of  fractious  sinners, 
and  of  course  everybody  was  anxious  to 
see  who  the  city  preacher  would  corral. 

I  don't  remember  much  about  the  meet- 
in'.  Me  an'  Tish  was  in  our  favorite  seat 
just  behind  the  choir,  and  we  usually  found 
enough  to  interest  us  in  the  gossipin'  back 
and  forth  of  the  young  people  about  us, 
without  botherin'  about  the  sermon,  for  we 
was  in  about  everything  in  them  days. 

When  meetin'  was  out  we  chatted  at 
the  Church  door  awhile,  and  then  I  drove 
round  the  horse,  got  Tish  in  an'  started  for 
home.  I  noticed  something  was  wrong  the 
minute  we  shot  out  the  gate,  for  the  black 
colt  give  his  old  defiant  snort  an'  began 
lookin'  about  for  something  to  scare  him. 

"Hi !  there,  my  boy  !  "  I  cried  to  him, 

48 


COLT  WITH  TOUGH  MOUTH 

and  he  settled  down  into  a  good  smart 
trot.  I  never  pulled  him  very  hard  now, 
for  I  knew  the  power  of  that  curb  bit. 

When  we  turned  Granger's  Corners  we 
had  a  straight  way  before  us  for  about  two 
miles,  and  it  was  my  custom  to  let  the 
black  colt  show  his  oats  on  this  stretch. 
However,  the  snow  was  deep  on  both 
sides  of  the  road,  there  bein'  only  one 
track;  and  while  we'd  dallied  at  the 
Church  door  the  old  folks  had  got  started, 
and  the  road  was  well  dotted  with  rigs 
ahead  of  us,  so  I  judged  it  best  to  go 
cautious. 

Right  in  front  of  us  old  Zenas  Furrs 
was  humpin'  along  through  the  pitch-holes 
in  an  aggravatin'  way,  so  I  turned  out  to 
pass  him.  Our  cutter  ripped  through  the 
snow  as  we  went  by,  and  just  as  we  got 
into  the  track  again  a  partridge  rose  out 
of  the  snow  and  whizzed  into  the  woods. 
That  was  enough  for  the  black  colt.  He 
gave  one  wild  snort  an'  straightened  out 
for  a  run. 

49 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  Hang  on  to  him,  George !  "  Tish 
cried. 

"  You  bet  your  life  !  "  I  replied  between 
my  teeth,  takin'  in  the  slack  of  the  reins 
an'  leanin'  forward  for  a  steady  pull. 

I  pulled,  but  the  curb  bit  had  lost  its 
terrors  for  the  black  colt.  It  just  shot 
out  into  the  air  like  an  express  engine,  and 
before  I  knew  it — rip  !  rip  ! — crash  !  We 
had  passed  a  cutter  an'  cut  off  its  rail  as 
slick  as  if  we'd  been  a  circular  saw,  and 
was  poundin'  madly  ahead  through  the 
pitch-holes. 

Tish  let  out  one  wild  laugh,  and,  as  her 
hat  went  back  from  her  head,  hangin'  to 
her  neck  by  the  strings,  she  grabbed  hold 
of  the  lines  with  me,  and  we  put  our  com 
bined  weight  on  the  bit.  But  it  had  no 
effect  whatever. 

Lord !  how  we  did  get  over  the  snow ! 
Talk  about  your  runnin'  horses !  That 
black  colt  did  record  work  that  night, 
and  every  few  hundred  yards  or  so  we 
cut  into  the  side  of  somebody's  cutter 

50 


COLT  WITH  TOUGH  MOUTH 

and  tossed  its  occupants  into  the  snow. 
The  blame  colt  would  turn  out  to  go  by 
just  so  we'd  slice  somethin'  from  every 
rig  we  passed. 

Me  an'  Tish  was  now  yellin'  like  wild 
Injuns  to  warn  the  people  ahead,  and  they 
turned  out  into  the  snow  banks  the  best 
they  could  to  let  us  past. 

But  it  worried  me  terrible  because  that 
bit  had  no  effect.  I  gritted  my  teeth  an' 
gave  the  colt  the  reins,  hopin'  he'd  take 
his  jaws  from  the  bit,  for  I  suspected  he'd 
in  some  impossible  manner  got  it  between 
his  teeth.  Then  I  began  to  saw  an'  yank, 
but  the  colt  went  ahead.  We  went  round 
the  last  corner  into  the  home  stretch  fairly 
in  the  air,  for  if  the  cutter  had  been 
touchin',  it  couldn't  possibly  have  helped 
slattin'  us  over  the  road  fence. 

I  turned  an'  looked  at  Tish.  Her  eyes 
was  out  on  her  cheeks  an'  she  was  coiled 
up  ready  for  a  header  into  the  snow  with 
out  notice. 

"  Look  out  for  the  gate  post,  George, 

51 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

when  we  turn  in  home!  "  she  cried,  and  I 
did,  but  that  colt  was  runnin'  away  in  a 
mighty  sane-headed  way,  for  he  curved 
out  for  the  gate  an'  made  as  pretty  a  turn 
as  ever  you  see. 

I  seen  a  face  at  the  parlor  window  as 
we  flew  by.  It  was  Jane's.  The  colt 
hauled  up  with  a  jerk,  that  nearly  sent  us 
over  the  dashboard,  directly  before  the 
drive-house  door  an'  stood  there,  pantin', 
of  course,  but  entirely  rational. 

"Is  that  you,  George?"  came  Jane's 
voice  from  the  kitchen  door. 

"  I  s'pose  so,"  I  says,  "  but  I  aint  half 
sure." 

"  You'd  ought  to  be  careful  an'  not  turn 
into  the  gate  so  fast ! "  Jane  cried. 

"  Oh,  don't  worry  about  me,"  I  called 
back.  "  I  know  how  to  drive,"  and  I 
nudged  Tish. 

I  now  crept  carefully  from  the  cutter 
an'  felt  along  the  rail  for  damages,  for  I'd 
about  as  soon  have  broken  my  neck  as 
damaged  that  cutter,  it  bein'  a  new  one 

52 


COLT  WITH  TOUGH   MOUTH 

that  father  had  traded  for,  the  precedin' 
winter.  It  was  dark  in  the  shadow  of 
the  drive-house,  and  I  couldn't  very  well 
see,  but  I  satisfied  myself  that  while 
there  might  be  scratches,  there  was  no 
broken  pieces,  and  I  whispered  the  news 
to  Tish. 

Then  I  went  to  the  black  colt's  head, 
speakin'  softly  to  him,  for  I  wasn't  sure 
that  he  wouldn't  take  a  notion  to  go  for  a 
flyin'  trip  up  through  the  orchard. 

He  rubbed  his  nose  against  me  an' 
seemed  to  be  in  no  way  worried  by  the 
memory  of  past  events.  I  felt  for  the 
curb  bit.  It  was  in  his  mouth  all  right, 
and  he  chawed  on  it  contentedly. 

"Well,  I'll  be  darned!"  I  said. 

"  What's  the  matter,  George  ?  "  Tish 
whispered  hoarsely. 

"  The  bit's  in  his  mouth  all  right," 
says  I. 

"  Then  what  have  we  been  pullin'  on  ? " 
says  Tish. 

I    felt    for    the    lines    an'    found    'em 

53 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

buckled  to  the  head-stall !  We'd  been 
pullin'  on  the  black  colt's  head  an'  not  on 
his  mouth,  for  some  darn  cuss  had  un 
buckled  the  lines  from  the  bit  an'  fastened 
'em  to  the  head-stall. 

"  It's  a  put-up  job ! "  I  whispered  to 
Tish,  "and  we've  ripped  up  every  other 
cutter  in  the  neighborhood  !  " 

I  fastened  the  lines  to  the  bit  again,  got 
back  into  the  cutter  an'  turned  round,  the 
black  colt  movin'  like  a  lamb,  now  that 
he  felt  the  curb. 

"Where  are  you  goin'  now?"  called 
Jane,  who  was  still  standin'  in  the  kitchen 
door. 

"  Just  takin'  Tish  home,"  I  called  back. 
"  I  come  away  without  my  horse-blanket, 
and  so  I  run  in  here  after  it." 

When  I'd  dropped  Tish  at  her  front 
gate  I  didn't  wait  for  an  hour's  sparkin' 
by  the  sittin'-room  stove  as  usual,  but 
made  tracks  for  home,  anxious  to  hear 
what  Ed  an'  father  knew  about  the  wrecks 
along  the  way  from  meetin'. 

54 


COLT  WITH  TOUGH  MOUTH 

There  was  excitement  enough,  I  assure 
you,  and  would  you  believe  it,  father  an' 
mother,  in  the  market  sleigh,  was  one  of 
the  rigs  we  passed.  All  they  had  lost, 
however,  was  a  piece  of  the  rail. 

"  Where  was  you  when  all  this  was 
happenin'  ?  "  father  says  to  me. 

"  Oh,  we  must  have  been  ahead  of  you 
all,"  I  replied,  matter-of-fact.  "  I  jogged 
along  here  so's  to  get  my  horse-blanket, 
but  I  didn't  need  it  after  all." 

"  Who  do  you  think  it  was  ? "  says 
Jane,  quite  eager. 

"  I  couldn't  just  swear  to  who  it  was," 
says  father.  "The  feller  had  either  a 
black  or  a  white  horse,  I  ain't  sure  which ; 
I  think  it  was  a  white.  But  it  wasn't  any 
of  our  neighbor  boys,  for  both  him  an' 
the  hussy  with  him  was  drunk  as  fools  an' 
yellin'  like  fiends.  I  never  see  a  more 
disgraceful  affair,  all  of  a  Sunday  evenin', 
too." 

That  runaway  was  the  talk  of  the  whole 
section  that  winter.  Over  ten  cutters  was 

55 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

more  or  less  wrecked,  and  the  voice  of 
wailm'  was  loud  in  the  land. 

I  was  never  suspected  for  a  moment, 
though  Jane  did  watch  me  pretty  close 
for  awhile,  but  even  she  lost  suspicion  in 
time,  for  who  ever  heard  of  turnin'  round 
a  runaway  horse  and  drivin'  him  off  as 
gentle  as  a  lamb  ? 

The  commonly-accepted  version  of  the 
affair  was  that  some  drunken  feller  an'  his 
girl  was  the  occupants  of  the  runaway  rig, 
and  as  Tish  knew  how  to  keep  a  secret,  the 
truth  never  leaked  out.  But  Jane's  hus 
band  years  afterwards  confessed  to  tyin'  the 
black  colt's  reins  in  to  the  head-stall,  Jane 
havin'  put  him  up  to  it  in  hopes  that  me 
an'  Tish  would  get  a  good  tossin'  into  the 
snow! 

I  tell  you,  none  of  us  stopped  to  think 
of  consequences  in  them  days. 


Scarin'   the    Duke 

Long  'bout  the  time  of  the  Fenian  Raid 
the  children  round  our  way  became  so 
timid  on  account  of  the  terrible  stories 
told  about  that  awful  monster,  the  Wild 
Irishman,  that  they  was  afraid  to  go  to  bed 
without  a  candle,  and  the  excitement  so 
worked  on  their  nerves  that  at  the  least 
sudden  surprise  they'd  spring  up  an'  hol 
ler  as  if  by  instinct.  Even  big  boys  like 
me  an'  Ed  was  at  that  time  would  tread 
very  gingerly  when  passin'  along  the  road 
by  the  big  woods,  for  the  most  alarmin' 
rumors  was  afloat,  and  we  didn't  know 
what  minute  the  Wild  Irishman  would 
spring  out  upon  us,  for  he  was  a  mighty 
real  phantom  to  us,  I  tell  you. 

Why,  not  fifteen  miles  from  our  home 
the  soldiers  found  about  fifty  rifles  in  a 

57 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

load  of  hay  which  an  Irish  farmer  was 
pretendin'  to  take  to  market,  and  in  con 
sequence  we  come  to  believe  that  every 
Irishman  in  the  country  was  in  league 
with  the  bloody  cut-throats  from  across 
the  Line,  who  was  threatenin'  invasion  of 
our  quiet  country. 

But  to  get  back  to  my  story :  Me  an' 
Ed  was  both  credulous  youngsters,  and 
old  Abe  Amey  used  to  tell  us  such  har- 
rowin'  tales,  that  we  was  on  the  raw  edge 
of  a  panic  half  the  time. 

I  remember  we  was  goin  back  after  the 
cows  one  evenin',  and  it  required  all  our 
nerve  to  go  over  the  crossway  in  the 
dusk,  I  swanny !  The  crossway  was  a 
road  through  a  swamp  from  the  front 
pasture  to  the  burnt  lands.  It  was  origi 
nally  a  log  road,  but  the  logs  had  sunk 
into  the  mud,  and  father  had  it  filled  in 
with  gravel,  the  stones  bein'  very  hard  an' 
sharp. 

When  goin'  over  this  crossway,  me  an' 
Ed  (we  always  went  barefoot  them  days) 

58 


SCARIN'  THE   DUKE 

would  pick  our  way  over  the  log  ends  to 
avoid  the  stones,  and  we  was  always  happy 
when  we  discovered  the  cows  in  the  front 
pasture,  for  the  swamp  was  a  place  of  ter 
ror  to  be  passed  an'  the  burnt  lands  was 
even  worse. 

If  you  never  was  a  boy  an'  never  went 
after  the  cows  of  a  cloudy  evenin',  and 
never  see  witches  an'  ghosts  an'  murderers 
pokin'  their  ugly  heads  round  the  corners, 
or  through  the  middle  of  black,  twisted, 
pine  stumps,  you  don't  know  the  rudi 
ments  of  the  sensation  called  bein'  scart 
to  death  !  Me  an'  Ed  would  start  out 
bold  enough,  for  Jane  would  generally  go 
with  us  to  the  little  hill  above  the  orchard, 
at  the  end  of  the  lane,  and  then,  after 
makin'  us  promise  not  to  move  for  five 
minutes,  turn  back  an'  streak  it  for  home 
as  fast  as  her  legs  could  carry  her.  Nothin' 
on  earth  could  have  tempted  her  to  go 
further  than  the  end  of  the  lane,  and  she 
thought  me  an'  Ed  was  heroes  of  a  won 
derful  sort. 

59 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

After  the  last  flicker  of  Jane's  white 
feet  as  she  turned  into  the  gate  near  the 
drive-house,  us  boys  would  start  back  with 
faces  bold  as  brass,  but  with  hearts  fairly 
turnin'  sick  with  fear.  We  knew  we  had 
to  go  back  after  them  cows,  and  while  we 
fully  believed  that  one  night  or  another 
the  Wild  Irishman  would  certainly  get  us 
an'  eat  us  alive,  just  as  Abe  Amey  told 
us,  yet  we  daren't  own  up  to  father  an' 
ourselves  that  we  was  cowards.  So  we 
fairly  pushed  ourselves  back  toward  the 
swamp  an'  its  horrors. 

Now  an'  then  an  owl  would  send  out  a 
shrill  hoot,  and  me  an'  Ed  would  shiver 
all  over  an'  then  look  sheepishly  at  each 
other,  quick  like,  to  see  if  the  other  had 
noticed  the  jump.  I  always  thought  that 
Ed  was  a  perfect  hero,  and  I  knew  myself 
to  be  a  sneakin'  coward,  and  I  guess  Ed 
had  similar  ideas  in  regard  to  him  an'  me, 
only  in  his  case  I  was  the  hero  an'  he  the 
coward. 

Anyway,  we  got  along  to  the  crossway 
60 


SCARIN'  THE  DUKE 

all  right,  and  passed  over  it  with  no 
more'n  half  a  dozen  frights.  The  cows 
was  in  the  far  corner  of  the  burnt  lands, 
as  we  knew  from  the  bells.  So  we  had 
to  pass  the  whole  array  of  monster  stumps ! 

We  thought  it  no  shame  now  to  hold 
hands  an'  go  on  tiptoe,  lookin'  straight 
ahead  an'  sideways  at  the  same  time. 

There  was  one  twisted  stump  which 
had  scart  us  many  a  time.  In  the  twilight 
it  always  looked  as  if  a  man's  head  an'  right 
shoulder  was  pushed  cautiously  out  from 
one  side.  The  man  had  thick  hair,  a  full 
beard  and  ferocious  eyes.  Many's  the 
time  we'd  stood  spellbound  lookin'  at  this 
bug-a-boo,  and  even  after  lookin'  the 
stump  over  by  daylight,  it  was  impossible 
for  us  to  pass  it  boldly.  This  evenin'  we 
hauled  up  before  it  with  a  jerk. 

"  It's  a  sure  enough  man  this  time ! " 
Ed  whispered,  and  I  could  feel  him 
tremblin'  all  over. 

I  confess  I  was  actually  too  scart  to  open 
my  mouth.  The  head  an'  shoulders  was 
61 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

there  the  same  as  usual,  but  the  eyes  was 
brighter,  and  do  you  believe  it,  I  could 
plainly  see  the  man's  right  hand  clutchin' 
an  axe!  I  could  hardly  believe  my  eyes, 
but  there  could  be  no  mistake.  There 
was  the  handle  plain  as  day,  and  the  glit- 
terin'  axe  poised  ready  to  strike. 

I  looked  at  Ed  an'  he  at  me.  Our 
faces  was  thin  an'  pale.  We  just  stood 
there  an'  quaked  for  about  two  minutes, 
and  then  with  a  yell  turned  an'  lit  out  for 
home.  You  never  see  such  runnin'  in  all 
your  life.  We  went  over  logs  three  feet 
high  as  if  they  was  nothin'.  We  bounded 
as  if  on  springs.  We  literally  flew.  Just 
before  we  come  to  the  crossway,  Ed 
turned  his  head  an'  looked  over  his 
shoulder.  He  let  out  a  yell  that  would 
scare  the  dead,  and  shrieked : 
"  George,  look  what's  comin'  !  " 
I  looked,  and  at  the  same  moment 
jumped  fully  ten  feet  forward.  Not  fifty 
feet  behind  come  boundin'  along  asnakey- 
lookin'  thing  with  a  big  black  head,  that 
62 


SCARIN'  THE   DUKE 

every  other  moment  leaped  into  the  air. 

We  didn't  pick  our  way  over  the  cross- 
way.  Right  through  the  middle  of  it 
we  went,  and  our  bare  feet  never  felt  the 
sharp  stones,  for  we  couldn't  turn  our 
heads  now  without  seein'  that  reptile  be 
hind  us.  But  it  didn't  seem  to  gain,  and 
when  we  struck  the  new  pasture,  I  dared 
to  say  to  Ed  : — 

We're  gainin'  on  it,  don't  you  think  ? " 

We  certainly  was  gainin'  on  it,  for  its 
head  grew  smaller  an'  smaller,  and  when 
we  got  to  the  lane  we  found  it  had  en 
tirely  disappeared.  Then  we  slowed  down 
to  get  our  breath,  and  when  we'd  come  to 
a  stop,  Ed  felt  somethin'  draggin'  from 
his  pocket,  and  found  it  was  a  piece  of 
yarn. 

Have  you  guessed  what  it  was  ?  Yes, 
that's  right.  The  boundin'  snake  was 
just  Ed's  yarn  ball  that  had  worked  from 
his  pocket  an'  unravelled  as  he  ran,  the 
ball  bouncin'  along  for  all  the  world  like 
a  snake. 

63 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

We  didn't  feel  half  so  sheepish  over  this 
as  you  might  think,  for  we  was  not  out 
of  our  troubles  yet.  The  yarn  ball  had 
looked  like  a  snake,  and  we'd  been  fooled, 
but,  by  gravy !  the  man  with  the  axe  was 
no  joke !  We  could  swear  to  the  axe. 
Nothin'  on  earth  but  an  axe  could  that 
be  what  we'd  seen.  We  was  just  as  cer 
tain  that  the  Wild  Irishman  was  behind 
the  stump  as  that  we  was  two  scart  boys ; 
and  we  knew,  too,  that  the  cows  was  in 
the  burnt  fields  an'  that  it  was  milkin' 
time.  What  was  we  to  do  ! 

"  Ed,"  says  I,  "we've  got  to  get  them 
cows." 

"  I  just  can't  go  back  there  again,"  says 
Ed.  "  I  ain't  goin'  to  be  killed  by  the 
Wild  Irishman  if  I  never  see  the  cows ! " 
he  says. 

"  But  father'll  whale  us  if  we  go  home 
without  'em,"  I  says. 

Ed  hesitated.  The  one  thing  he  was 
mortally  sure  of  was  that  whalin'.  The 
Irishman  might  or  might  not  kill  him, 

64 


SCARIN'  THE  DUKE 

but  he  knew  positive  that  bein'  scared 
wouldn't  weigh  a  feather  with  father,  and 
that  a  lickin'  was  sure. 

"  We'll  have  to  go  back,"  he  said,  and 
shivered. 

Then  I  began  to  hedge.  "  S'pose  we 
say  we  couldn't  find  'em  ?  "  I  says. 

"  It's  no  use,"  says  Ed.  "  He'll  know 
better." 

We  turned  an'  retraced  our  steps. 

Now,  I've  never  been  much  of  a  hero 
in  my  own  eyes.  I  never  felt  I  could  do 
my  family  justice  if  called  out  for  a  sol 
dier ;  but  do  you  know,  I've  always  felt 
proud  of  myself  an'  Ed  for  goin'  back  that 
night. 

It  was  fairly  dark  when  we  got  to  the 
crossway,  and  our  jaws  was  tight  shut. 
We  didn't  tremble  now ;  we  was  feelin' 
numb.  I  didn't  know  whether  I  was 
walkin'  on  stones  or  moss.  Night-hawks 
was  whirlin'  an'  shriekin'  overhead,  and 
the  swamp  seemed  alive  with  owls ;  but 
on  we  went,  holdin'  hands  an'  grittin'  our 

65 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

teeth.  Presently  we  heard  the  cow  bells. 
We  stopped  to  listen.  Yes,  sure  enough, 
the  cows  was  comin'  towards  us.  We  stood 
like  two  statues,  drawn  up  rigid,  our  ears 
open.  Soon  old  Limeback,  the  leader, 
swung  into  view,  and  trailin'  after  her  was 
the  rest  of  the  herd.  Seein'  us,  Limeback 
stopped,  curved  her  neck  an'  looked  at  us, 
and  then  with  a  toss  of  her  head  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  Why,  it's  them  boys,"  moved 
on. 

Father  met  us  at  the  head  of  the  lane. 

"  What  kept  you  so  long  ?  "  he  asked, 
sharply. 

I  squeezed  Ed's  hand  an'  Ed  squeezed 
back. 

"  The  cows  was  hard  to  find,  sir,"  I 
said. 

Two-thirds  of  all  the  lies  I've  told  in 
my  life  I  told  to  father. 

But  this  ain't  what  I  set  out  to  tell  you 
at  all.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  not  how  me 
an'  Ed  was  scared,  but  how  we  scart  the 
Duke. 

66 


SCARIN'  THE  DUKE 

The  Duke  was  a  neighbor  boy  whose 
right  name  was  Wellington  Benn.  Jane 
nicknamed  him  the  Duke  because  he  was 
so  utterly  unlike  his  famous  namesake. 
The  Duke  was  a  real  bona  fide  coward, — 
one  of  the  snivelling  cryin'  kind, — and  a 
boy  only  half  as  big  could  bluff"  him  off 
the  playground.  He  wouldn't  fight,  but 
he'd  talk  back  as  long  as  he  dared,  and  a 
mighty  mean  tongue  he  had.  We  all 
hated  him,  but  Jane  worst  of  all,  and  do 
you  know,  he  was  real  fond  of  Jane. 

Well,  one  winter  night  in  them  Fenian 
times  I've  been  tellin'  you  about,  me  an' 
Ed  went  down  to  get  scart  by  old  Abe 
Amey.  Why  we  went  I  don't  know, 
'cept  it  was  fascination,  for  Abe  was  a 
natural-born  story  teller,  an'  he  knew  all 
the  news  about  the  Fenians — where  an' 
when  they  would  land, — and  he  had  every 
man,  woman  an'  child  in  Canada  burnt 
at  the  stake  before  our  eyes. 

Why,  one  night  he  was  yarnin'  this 
way  to  a  lot  of  us,  and  his  stories  was  so 

67 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

blood  curdlin'  that  he  got  excited  himself, 
and  takin'  down  a  long  musket  he  had 
hangin'  on  the  wall,  he  said,  his  eyes 
flashin' : — 

"  Jest  let  a  Fenian  step  his  foot  through 
my  gate  an'  I'll  spile  his  pictur'  fer  him, 
by  Jerooshy ! " 

Just  then,  as  luck  would  have  it,  we 
heard  a  stealthy  step  goin'  round  the  cor 
ner  of  the  house.  Abe  leaped  to  the  door, 
hauled  off  an'  let  fire,  kerbang  !  We  heard 
somethin'  give  a  grunt,  and  drop.  It  was 
Abe's  pet  Jersey  cow !  He  set  right  down 
an'  cried  over  it,  but  he  didn't  let  up  on 
his  stories  on  account  of  it. 

Well,  this  night  Abe  filled  me  an'  Ed 
up  with  all  we  wanted,  and  we  started  to 
walk  home.  It  was  a  bright  winter's  night 
an'  we  wasn't  much  afraid,  for  there  was 
no  woods  near. 

Ed   wore  a   big   buffalo   overcoat   that 

father  had.      It  was  twice  too  big  for  him, 

but  he  liked  to  wear  it,  kinder  to  show 

off,  I  guess.     The  collar   went   up   over 

68 


SCARIN'  THE  DUKE 

his  head  an*  the  sleeves  came  over  his 
hands. 

As  we  trudged  along  we  heard  some 
one  comin'  down  the  road.  You  can  hear 
approachin'  footsteps  a  long  ways  on  the 
frozen  snow.  This  might  be  the  Wild 
Irishman,  or  more  likely  only  a  neighbor, 
but  we  was  takin'  no  chances  them  days, 
and  we  crawled  over  the  fence  and  hid 
behind  it  to  let  the  stranger  pass.  Nearer 
an'  nearer  the  figure  come,  an'  we  soon  see 
it  was  no  Fenian,  but  only  the  Duke. 

Quick  as  a  flash  it  occurred  to  me  that 
here  was  a  fine  opportunity  to  scare  the 
Duke  half  to  death,  and  I  whispered  my 
plan  to  Ed. 

He  saw  it  at  once,  and  just  as  the  Duke 
got  opposite  us  I  made  a  growl  as  deep 
as  I  could  an'  Ed  went  over  the  fence  on 
all  fours  just  like  a  bear.  And  say  !  do 
you  know,  he  looked  so  darn  savage  in 
that  big  buffalo  coat,  springin'  up  from 
the  snow,  that  I  never  blamed  the  Duke 
for  bein'  scart. 

69 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Was  the  Duke  scart?  Scart  ain't  no 
name  for  it.  He  let  out  one  yell  an' 
went  down  in  the  road  in  a  heap  as  Ed 
sprang  at  him.  He  was  kickin'  in  a  fit 
when  I  reached  him,  and  I'm  blamed  if 
the  feller  recovered  consciousness  for  two 
days. 

We  lugged  him  as  far  as  our  place  an' 
then  father  drove  him  home. 

"  I  never  see  anything  like  it,"  says  Ed 
to  Jane  as  earnest  as  a  judge, — "  I  never 
see  anything  like  it.  Me  an'  George  was 
comin'  along  whistlin'  as  natural  as  could 
be,  when  we  hears  a  yell  in  front  of  us  an' 
the  Duke  goes  into  a  fit.  I  wonder  what 
could  have  ailed  him  !  " 

"P'raps  he  saw  his  shadder !  "  says  Jane, 
dryly.  "  The  Duke  ain't  no  hero." 

"  May  be,"  says  Ed,  "  but  I  never  see 
the  like  of  it." 


The    Remarkable   Taste   of 
Ebenezer  Brown 

A  man  makes  a  mistake  when  he  con 
vinces  himself  that  he's  so  expert  in  certain 
things  that  he  can't  make  a  mistake.  I 
used  to  think,  for  instance,  that  the  man 
didn't  live  that  could  beat  me  tradin' 
horses.  I  honestly  believed  that  I  knowed 
every  ailin*  that  a  horse  was  subject  to, 
and  that  in  a  two-mile  drive  I  could  tell 
what  a  horse  was  good  for  as  well  as  if  I'd 
raised  that  horse  from  a  colt.  But  it  cost 
me  a  hundred-dollar  colt  an'  twenty  dollars 
to  boot  to  discover  that  a  wind-broken, 
worthless  horse'll  travel  for  ten  miles  at  a 
round  trot,  with  his  head  in  the  air,  on  a  pint 
of  shot  judiciously  administered.  Why,  I've 
seen — but  that's  neither  here  nor  there. 

Ebenezer  Brown's  pride  was  his  sense 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

of  taste.  Ebenezer  was  not  a  bettin'  man, 
he  bein'  a  steward  in  the  Church ;  but  if 
he'd  been  a  bettin'  man,  he'd  have  wagered 
his  farm  any  time  that  he  could  tell  the 
various  ingredients  in  a  spoonful  of  honey 
just  by  puttin'  it  to  his  lips.  He'd  been 
born  an'  brought  up  with  bees,  and  he 
knew  their  habits  like  a  book. 

But  it  was  his  boast  that  you  could 
blindfold  him  an'  place  him  where  you 
would,  and  he  could  tell  just  how  much 
clover,  wild  blossoms,  flowers  an'  buck 
wheat  was  in  any  sample  of  honey  that 
might  be  presented  to  him.  He  despised 
buckwheat  honey ;  wouldn't  have  an  acre 
of  buckwheat  on  his  farm,  and  considered 
it  an  unfriendly  act  if  any  of  his  neigh 
bors  sowed  buckwheat  within  travellin' 
distance  of  his  bees. 

Spring  blossom  an'  clover  honey  was 
the  only  kind  he  wanted,  and  he  was 
mighty  particular  to  harvest  his  honey 
each  year  before  buckwheat  was  in  bloom, 
so  that  if  by  chance  his  bees  showed  such 
72 


TASTE  OF  EBENEZER  BROWN 

bad  taste  as  to  gather  any  of  the  brown 
buckwheat  nectar,  they  could  eat  it  them 
selves  durin'  the  winter  an'  not  force  it  on 
him. 

He  certainly  had  a  remarkable  taste, 
but  as  I  said  before,  we  all  come  to  the 
time  when  we're  brought  face  to  face  with 
the  fact  that  we're  not  above  mistakes,  and 
me  an'  Ed  was  the  means  of  takin'  Eben- 
ezer  down  a  peg  in  his  own  estimation, 
though  I've  always  wished  we  hadn't  done 
it,  for  the  old  man  never  seemed  as  light- 
hearted  afterwards. 

It  was  this  way :  When  Ebenezer's 
daughter  Mary  Jane  finished  her  year  of 
school  teachin'  in  our  section,  her  father 
'lowed  that  the  amount  of  her  salary  was 
not  sufficient  to  overbalance  his  worryin' 
about  her  bein'  led  into  temptation,  so  he 
took  her  back  home. 

Ed  hadn't  said  much  to  Mary  Jane 
when  she  was  under  his  nose,  but  as  soon 
as  she'd  retired  to  private  life  an'  Eben- 
ezer  loomed  up  as  a  dragon,  keepin'  her 

73 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

in  confinement,  Ed  took  a  notion  that 
Mary  Jane  was  a  very  desirable  girl  to  be 
sociable  with,  and  he  forthwith  began  to 
pay  her  all  the  attention  circumstances 
permitted  of. 

This  suited  Mary  Jane  down  to  the 
ground,  for  she  thought  Ed  was  about 
right,  and  his  fiddle  playin'  completely 
charmed  her.  But  the  dragon,  Ebenezer, 
was  a  stickler.  He  forbid  Mary  Jane 
havin'  beaux.  He  wanted  no  young  men 
foolin'  'round  his  daughter, — no,  siree ; 
and  he  wouldn't  have  it. 

Ed  didn't  mind  this  in  the  least,  for  he 
liked  excitement,  and  he  stood  in  solid 
with  mother  Brown.  She  thought  the 
sun  rose  an'  set  in  Ed,  for  when  he  laid 
himself  out  you  could  fairly  see  the  wings 
tryin'  to  break  through  his  coat.  So  when 
Ebenezer  wasn't  home,  Ed  was  there,  and 
many's  the  time  he's  sparked  with  Mary 
Jane  in  the  parlor  when  Ebenezer  was 
sleepin'  the  sleep  of  the  just,  and  Mrs. 
Brown  beside  him  on  guard. 

74 


TASTE  OF  EBENEZER  BROWN 

Tish  Brown,  who  was  Mary  Jane's 
cousin,  as  I've  told  you,  aided  an'  abetted 
all  this.  Me  an'  Tish  was  thick  as  we 
could  be  without  bein'  actually  engaged. 
Tish  was  a  likely  girl,  I  tell  you.  I've 
never  seen  her  equal,  and  she  might  have 
been  my  wife  to-day  but  for  the  meanest 
trick  I  ever  heard  of  bein'  played  on  a 
couple.  It's  really  worth  tellin'. 

One  night  in  summer  me  an'  Tish  was 
drivin'  home  from  meetin'  in  a  new  piano- 
box  buggy  I'd  just  bought,  and  it  bein'  a 
quiet,  balmy  kind  of  evenin'  we  let  the 
horse  go  his  own  gait,  and  got  to  passin* 
back  an'  forth  some  pretty  sweet  remarks. 
I  told  Tish  how  much  I  thought  of  her, 
and  she  wasn't  at  all  backward  in  ownin' 
up  that  she  thought  I  was  about  as  near 
the  specification  as  a  feller  needed  to  be. 
I  said  to  Tish  frankly  that  I  believed  she 
was  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  two  conces 
sions,  and  she  owned  that  since  I'd  got  a 
mustache  there  wasn't  a  feller  anywhere's 
around  as  could  hold  a  candle  to  me.  I 

75 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

allowed  that,  not  exceptin'  Jane,  who  Tish 
knew  was  a  truly  remarkable  cook,  she 
was  the  star  artist  in  gettin'  up  a  tasty 
meal,  and  Tish  allowed  that  her  father 
had  said  that  I  knew  more  about  scientific 
farmin'  than  any  other  young  man  in  the 
county. 

We  run  on  this  way,  gettin'  pretty 
spooney,  as  you  may  guess,  but  we  reached 
her  home  before  I'd  nerved  myself  up  to 
the  poppin'  point. 

Along  the  middle  of  the  followin'  week 
I  met  a  feller  by  the  name  of  Reub  Tomp- 
kins  down  at  Milton.  Me  an'  Reub  was 
old  friends  and  had  always  known  each 
other.  Somehow  or  other  he  turned  the 
conversation  on  to  Tish  Brown. 

"  I  was  up  to  Tish's  last  evenin',"  he 
says. 

"  How  was  they  all  ?  "  I  says. 

"Good — first-rate,"  he  says,"  and  then 
he  laughs. 

"What  are  you  grinnin'  at?"  says  I. 

"  Oh,  nothin',"  he  says,  and  then    he 

76 


TASTE  OF  EBENEZER  BROWN 

says,  slappin'  me  on  the  back :  "  George," 
he  says,  "  I  don't  know  but  what  you're 
pretty  near  all  right.  Since  you  growed 
your  mustache,  George,"  he  says,  "  there 
ain't  a  feller  anywhere's  around  as  can 
hold  a  candle  to  you !  " 

"  What's  this  you're  givin'  me  ? "  I 
says,  feelin'  pretty  foolish. 

"  George,"  he  says  with  a  grin,  "  I've 
heard  father  say  you  knowed  more  about 
scientific  farmin'  than  any  other  young 
man  in  the  county  !  " 

The  blood  rushed  to  my  face  in  a  flame, 
and  with  a  pretty  strong  word  I  turned  on 
my  heel  an'  walked  away. 

"To  think,"  says  I  to  myself,  my 
blood  boilin',  "  that  Tish  'ud  go  to  work 
an'  tell  every  word  I  said  to  her  to  Reub 
Tompkins  ! " 

I  don't  believe  I  was  ever  madder  in 
my  life.  All  the  love  I  ever  had  for  the 
girl  turned  to  hate  in  me,  and  I  could  have 
stamped  her  under  my  feet  for  makin'  me 
the  laughin'  stock  of  the  two  concessions. 

77 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

I'd  never  heard  of  a  girl  playin'  a  feller  as 
dirty  a  trick  as  that.  What  a  girl  an'  her 
beau  say  to  one  another  is  sacred;  always 
was  an'  always  will  be ;  but  here  was  Tish, 
my  brave  old  Tish — my  handsome  Tish — 
who  I'd  knowed  from  a  baby  an'  who 
always  seemed  to  like  me — goin*  an'  givin' 
me  dead  away  to  Reub  Tompkins,  a  feller 
she  barely  knew ! 

"  That  settles  Tish  Brown  for  me !  " 
says  I,  and  I  never  went  near  her  for  a 
month.  Then  I  met  her  at  a  strawberry 
festival.  I  thought  she'd  be  after  me  for 
an  explanation,  and  then  I  could  tell  her 
what  I  thought  of  her ;  but  no,  sir  !  She 
passed  me  by  with  her  head  in  the  air  like 
a  queen,  and  I  never  spoke  to  her  again 
for  nigh  on  twenty  years. 

I'd  lost  most  of  my  hair  an'  was  a 
mighty  different-lookin'  feller  than  I  once 
was  when  I  run  across  her,  but  she  knew 
me.  I  own  I  had  no  idea  who  the  pale- 
lookin'  woman  was  who  grabbed  me  by 
the  arm  an'  said  : — 

78 


TASTE  OF  EBENEZER  BROWN 

"  George,  don't  you  know  me  ?  " 

I  looked  hard,  and  then  it  come  on  me 
who  it  was. 

"Tish  ! "  I  cried,  and  my  heart  was  in 
my  throat. 

"  Yes,  it's  me  !  "  she  said.  "  Old  an' 
homely  an'  broken  down  as  you  see  me, 
but  the  same  old  Tish  at  heart." 

We  went  into  the  City  Hotel  parlor 
an'  sat  down  to  talk  it  over.  The  first 
words  she  said  was, — 

"  George,  it  was  all  a  mistake  !  " 

I  knew  what  she  meant. 

"  I  might  have  knowed  it,"  I  said. 
"  But,"  said  I,  "how  the  mischief,  Tish, 
did  Reub  Tompkins  know  every  word 
that  you  said  to  me  that  night  we  drove 
home  from  Milton,  if  you  didn't  tell 
him?" 

"  I'll  tell  you,  George,"  Tish  replied, 
with  a  sad,  little  smile,  "  if  you'll  tell  me 
how  Reub  Tompkins  knew  every  word 
that  you  said  to  me  on  the  same  occasion, 
if  you  did'nt  tell  him." 

79 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"Great  Scott!  Tish!"  I  cried,  "you 
don't  mean  to  tell  me  after  all  these  years 
that  Reub  told  you  the  same's  he  did 
me?" 

"I  do!"  said  she,  "and  I  know  how 
he  come  to  do  it! " 

"Tell  me  !  "  I  asked. 

Tish  brushed  a  tear  from  her  cheek  an' 
replied  with  the  same  feeble  little  smile 
I  see  she  was  forcin'  on  herself,  and 
answered : 

"  We  was  so  taken  up  with  one  another 
that  evenin',"  she  said,  "that  we  didn't 
notice  Reub  when  we  passed  him  on  the 
road,  and  we  didn't  feel  the  jar  when  he 
jumped  an'  seated  himself  lightly  in  the 
buggy  box  behind  us  ;  and  so  he  sat  there 
an'  heard  every  word  we  said  to  each 
other.  He  thought  it  a  good  joke  to  let 
on  to  each  of  us  that  he  knew  what  we 
said,  though  he  never  told  another  livin' 
soul.  He  never  thought  it  would  make 
the  trouble  between  us  that  it  did,  and 
when  he  found  out  how  angry  we  both 
80 


TASTE  OF  EBENEZER  BROWN 

was  he  felt  ashamed  to  own  up,  so  he  let 
it  drift  on.  But  he  told  me  about  it  for 
the  first  time  last  year  when  I  run  across 
him  here  in  the  city." 

I  didn't  speak  for  a  minute  or  so.  Then 
I  said,  slowly  : 

"It  was  a  bad  business  for  me  an'  you, 
Tish." 

"It  might  have  been  worse,  George," 
she  said,  "  for  we  both  fell  on  our  feet  in 
the  marriage  line,  I  guess." 

"  I've  got  a  good  wife,  Tish,"  I  said. 
"  But  we  can't  entirely  forget  the  old 
days." 

"  We  must,  George,"  she  said,  risin'  to 
her  feet.  "  I  just  wanted  you  to  know 
that  I  wasn't  the  mean  girl  you  thought 
me  all  these  years.  So  good-bye." 

That's  the  romance  of  me  an'  Tish. 
Ain't  it  a  caution  what  little  things  turn 
the  courses  of  our  lives  ! 

But  to  get  back  to  my  story  when  me 
an'  Tish  was  young  an'  foolish,  and 
thinkin'  nothin'  at  all  of  the  future :  Tish 
81 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

planned  to  have  her  cousin  Mary  Jane 
over  to  her  place  a  good  deal,  and  it  made 
it  very  nice  for  me  an'  Ed  to  meet  the 
girls  there.  I  haven't  mentioned  that 
Tish  had  two  sisters  older  than  herself, 
have  I  ?  Well,  she  had, — Martha  an' 
Minerva  was  their  names — and  they  both 
had  beaux.  So  you  see,  when  we  got  to 
gether  at  Tish's  of  a  Sunday  evenin'  we 
made  quite  a  party. 

The  girls  had  a  certain  rule  about  enter- 
tainin'  their  beaux.  It  was  like  this : 
Martha  bein'  the  oldest,  had  the  parlor, 
Minerva  the  sittin'  room  an'  Tish  the 
kitchen.  This,  of  course,  when  all  the 
fellers  was  on  hand. 

When  Mary  Jane  was  visitin'  an'  Ed 
came,  there  was  no  place  for  them,  so 
they  had  to  manoeuvre  the  best  they  knew 
how,  and  Ed  was  no  slouch  at  this,  as 
you'll  presently  see. 

Well,  one  nice  Sunday  afternoon  me 
an'  Ed,  both  with  a  rig  of  our  own,  drove 
up  to  Tish's  an'  found  Martha's  feller, 
82 


TASTE  OF  EBENEZER  BROWN 

Joe  Perry,  and  Tom  Clark,  Minerva's 
beau,  already  on  the  ground.  But  to 
Ed's  sorrow  there  was  no  Mary  Jane, 
although  she'd  promised  to  be  on  hand. 
Neither  Tish  or  her  sisters  knew  why 
Mary  Jane  hadn't  come  over,  so  it  was 
decided  that  everybody  would  hitch  up 
an'  we'd  all  swoop  down  on  Ebenezer  as 
a  surprise. 

This  we  did,  and  contrary  to  expecta 
tion  the  dragon  was  in  a  very  amiable 
mood,  and  insisted  on  us  all  stayin'  for 
supper.  He  see  we  was  all  double  but 
Ed,  and  he  turned  to  him  with  a  sly 
wink. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Ed,"  he  says,  "as  if 
the  other  boys  was  gettin'  ahead  of  you. 
You  don't  seem  to  have  a  girl." 

"That's  the  way  it  looks,  Mr.  Brown," 
says  Ed  with  a  sober  face.  "  The  girls 
don't  cotton  to  me  much,  so  I  just  come 
along  with  George  to  keep  him  straight." 

The  old  man  chuckled.  "  Cheer  up," 
he  says.  "  You  may  get  one  some  day." 

83 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  I  hope  so,"  says  Ed,  and  he  give  Tom 
Clark  a  wink  that  nearly  sent  that  chap 
into  the  haymow  with  convulsions. 

"  You  don't  know  a  girl  about  these 
parts,  Mr.  Brown,"  Ed  says,  "who  might 
be  had  for  the  askin'  ?  " 

Ebenezer  scratched  his  head.  "  I  can't 
think  of  one  just  now,"  he  says.  "  But 
I'll  keep  my  eyes  open  for  you,"  he  says. 

"Do,"  says  Ed,  "and  I'll  be  much 
obliged.  In  the  meantime  I'll  just  amuse 
myself  watchin'  these  fellers,"  he  says, 
"  and  seein'  how  they  get  on." 

The  old  man  was  now  in  excellent 
temper,  and  nothin'  would  do  but  we 
must  go  out  an'  see  his  bees.  This  we 
did,  walkin'  in  Injun  file  behind  him  to 
the  row  of  hives.  As  he  passed  each  hive 
he'd  stop  an'  look  at  it  attentively. 

"  Pretty  near  ripe,"  he'd  say,  "  pretty 
near  ripe.  Will  be  ready  to  pick  soon 
now." 

But  when  he  come  to  the  second  hive 
from  the  end  he  went  gingerly  behind  it 
84 


TASTE  OF  EBENEZER  BROWN 

an'  looked  through  the  glass  in  the  little 
box,  or  cap,  which  set  on  top  of  the  hive. 

"  Fine  !  "  he  says.  "  Fine  !  Ready  to 
pick  to-morrow,"  he  says.  "  Every  drop 
clover — pure  clover — every  drop.  Not  a 
speck  of  buckwheat  in  that  cap." 

Bees  didn't  interest  me  particularly,  so 
I  was  glad  when  we  turned  towards  the 
house.  The  girls  had  taken  off  their 
things  an'  was  waitin'  for  us,  Mary  Jane 
buzzin'  about  among  'em  an'  pretendin' 
not  to  notice  Ed  or  the  rest  of  us. 

Ebenezer  stuck  right  to  us.  I  never 
see  him  so  sociable,  and  wouldn't  have 
believed  he  could  be  so  jolly.  It  seemed 
to  tickle  him  that  Ed  had  drove  up  with 
out  a  girl,  and  he  says  to  Mary  Jane : 

"You  must  be  nice  to  Ed,  Mary  Jane," 
he  says,  "  for  you  see  he  ain't  got  any 
girl." 

Mary  Jane  hung  down  her  head  an' 
her  father  laughed. 

"  Bashful,"  says  he.  "  Bashful  as  all 
git  out.  Why,  Mary  Jane,"  he  says,  "  Ed 

85 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

won't  bite  you — will  you,  Ed  ? "  says  he. 

"  I  don't  know  'bout  that !  "  says  Ed, 
and  he  looked  the  meanin'  of  his  words. 

But  Ebenezer  kept  on  : 

"  Ed  wants  me  to  find  him  a  girl,"  he 
says,  "and  I've  promised  to  do  it.  You 
don't  know  of  any  one,  do  you?" 

"  There's  Sarah  Ann  Stevens,"  says 
Mary  Jane  with  a  lightnin'  twinkle  of  her 
eye  at  Ed. 

The  old  man  roared. 

"  Just  the  one  !  "  he  cried ;  "just  the 
one  !  I'll  look  after  it  for  you,"  he  says 
to  Ed.  "  Me  an'  Mary  Jane'll  fix  you 
out  all  right." 

An'  so  it  run  on,  makin'  lots  of  fun  for 
us  all,  for  we  knew  that  if  Ebenezer 
thought  for  a  minute  Ed  had  a  notion  of 
puttin'  up  to  Mary  Jane  he'd  have  ordered 
him  from  the  house. 

We  set  around  awhile  after  supper  an' 

then,  two  by  two,  we  started  to  leave.      I 

missed   Ed  while  I  was  hitchin'  up,  but 

s'posed  he  was  havin'  a  private  word  with 

86 


TASTE  OF  EBENEZER  BROWN 

Mary  Jane  in  her  father's  absence.  I  found 
him  standin'  near  my  buggy  when  I  come 
from  the  house  with  Tish.  Then  we  drove 
away.  Ed  followed  in  a  few  minutes,  an' 
when  we  got  to  Tish's  he  was  right  be 
hind  us. 

"It  seems  to  me,  George,  as  if  you 
must  have  driven  over  Uncle  Ebenezer's 
beehives,"  he  called,  as  we  went  through 
the  gate. 

"That's  as  true  as  I  live ! "  Tish  cried. 
"  I've  smelled  honey  all  the  way  home  !  " 

Martha  an'  Joe  an'  Minerva  an'  Tom 
both  swore  they  smelt  honey,  too,  so 
nothin'  would  do  but  we  must  get  a  lan 
tern  and  examine  my  buggy. 

Settin'  there  in  the  back,  what  did  we 
find  but  a  fine  cap  of  honey ! 

Of  course  everybody  was  surprised,  but 
no  one  could  account  for  the  honey  till 
Ed  owned  up  that  while  we  was  hitchin' 
up  he'd  lifted  Ebenezer's  pet  cap  of  clover 
honey  that  was  already  to  pick  to-morrow  ! 

The  girls  saw  there  was   nothin'  to  do 

8? 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

but  make  the  best  of  the  joke,  so  they 
sneaked  the  honey  into  the  house  an'  hid 
it  for  a  couple  of  weeks.  After  that  time 
they  felt  it  safe  to  bring  it  forth  from 
hidin',  and  it  was  represented  as  bein'  a 
present  from  my  father  to  Mrs.  Brown  in 
return  for  her  kindness  to  me  an'  Ed. 

You  can  imagine  how  wild  Ebenezer 
was  when  he  missed  his  honey,  but  he 
never  suspected  us  for  a  moment,  layin' 
the  theft  to  some  wretch  or  wretches  un 
known.  Mary  Jane  told  us  afterwards 
that  he  really  mourned  for  that  cap  of 
honey  as  for  one  dead  an'  refused  to  be 
comforted. 

But  it  seemed  we  couldn't  use  that 
honey  up.  It  hung  on  an'  on  until  I'd 
'bout  forgotten  it,  until  well  in  the  fall, 
when  it  burst  in  on  us  in  the  followin' 
way : 

It  was  Sunday,  as  usual.     Everything 

happened    on    a  Sunday    in  them    days. 

Ebenezer  an'    Mrs.    Brown,  with    Mary 

Jane,  had  been  invited  to  take  dinner  with 

88 


TASTE  OF  EBENEZER  BROWN 

Tish's  parents,  it  bein*  Tish's  father's 
birthday.  Me  an'  Ed  an'  Joe  Perry  an' 
Tom  Clark  was  on  hand  as  usual,  and  the 
big  dinin'-room  table  had  a  crowd  about 
it  when  we  all  sat  down. 

After  the  blessin's,  the  talk  went  along 
finely,  and  Ebenezer  was  particularly 
happy  in  his  remarks  an'  continued  to 
quiz  Ed  about  his  lack  of  a  girl,  though 
if  he'd  had  half  an  eye  he  could  have  seen 
that  'Mary  Jane  an'  Ed  was  dartin'  love 
at  each  other  across  the  table. 

Presently  Tish's  mother  jumps  up  all 
of  a  sudden  an'  crys  : — 

"  Why  !  To  think  that  here's  Ebenezer 
with  us  an'  we  haven't  got  a  drop  of  honey 
on  the  table !  Minerva,"  she  says,  "  go 
right  down  cellar  an'  bring  up  a  plate  of 
that  delicious  clover  honey  George's  father 
sent  to  me." 

Minerva  went,  tottering,  and  I  felt 
rather  than  heard  a  sigh  go  the  rounds  of 
the  table.  We  was  certainly  in  for  it  now, 
for  Ebenezer,  with  his  remarkable  taste, 

89 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

would  instantly  spot  that  honey  as  his 
own ! 

If  I  could  have  crawled  under  the  table 
an'  got  out  I  should  certainly  have  gone, 
but  there  was  no  escape,  and  Minerva 
appeared  with  a  generous  plate  of  the 
honey  and,  obedient  to  her  mother's  com 
mand,  set  it  directly  before  her  Uncle 
Ebenezer. 

The  old  man  perked  his  head  with  de 
light.  He  was  at  his  proudest  moment — 
about  to  pass  judgment  on  the  product  ot 
a  rival  bee-keeper,  and  a  no  less  dis 
tinguished  one  than  my  father. 

He  dipped  his  knife  into  the  honey  an' 
twisted  a  load  on  its  point  with  practiced 
skill,  while  we  shivered  an'  held  our 
breath. 

Then  he  sniffed  the  honey.  He  sniffed 
again,  and  we  noticed  a  pained  expression 
come  into  his  face.  Then  he  delicately 
tasted  the  honey,  runnin'  his  tongue  slowly 
between  his  lips. 

I  knew  I  was  growin'  deadly  pale  from 
90 


TASTE  OF  EBENEZER  BROWN 

suppressed  emotion.  You  could  have 
heard  a  pin  drop  until  Mrs.  Brown  broke 
the  weird  silence. 

"Well,  Ebenezer,"  she  said,  "  how  do 
you  like  it? " 

"  George,"  said  the  old  man,  solemnly, 
turnin'  to  me,  "I'm  s'prised  at  your 
father — such  a  careful  man  as  he  is,  too — 
sendin'  out  such  stuff  as  this  under  the 
name  of  clover  honey  ! "  Then  he  added, 
with  a  horrified  look  in  his  eyes  :  "  There's 
positively  buckwheat  in  it ! " 

The  shock  was  too  great.  I  give  one 
look  at  Tish  an'  Ed.  They  was  grittin' 
their  teeth  to  hold  in.  The  absurdity  of 
the  thing  was  too  much.  I  snorted,  and 
that  touched  off  the  rest  of  the  young 
people  an'  the  table  shook  with  laughter. 

Ebenezer  looked  pained.  Then  he 
looked  at  the  honey.  Then  a  smile  crept 
into  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  He  tasted 
the  honey  carefully. 

"  It's  my  stolen  cap  ! "  he  said. 

"  But,  sir,"  said  I,  with  the  tears  run- 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

nin'   from   my    eyes,   "there's   positively 
buckwheat  in  it !  " 

"George,"  said  he,  "we'll  let  it  drop 
where  it  is.  But  if  you  want  to  keep  out 
of  jail,  don't  tell  your  father  what  I  said, 
that's  all." 


When  Me  an'  Ed   Got 
Religion 

'Long  about  the  time  me  an'  Ed  was 
just  gettin'  on  friendly  relations  with 
our  'teens,  a  young  Methodist  preacher 
just  out  from  England  got  stationed  on 
the  Milton  circuit  an'  took  the  notion  of 
holdin'  protracted  meetin'  in  the  little 
red  schoolhouse.  These  revival  services 
was  a  big  event  in  the  neighborhood 
in  them  days  an'  be  yet,  I've  no  doubt. 
You  know,  we  never  had  much  of  public 
amusement  or  excitement,  and  a  winter 
without  a  protracted  meetin'  was  consid 
ered  dull.  The  young  folks  'specially 
enjoyed  such  a  meetin',  'cause  it  was  a 
place  to  go  to  of  a  night,  and  what  with 
the  queer  things  that  happened  an'  the 
funny  experiences  told  by  the  converted, 

93 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

it  stood  us  in  place  of  a  theatre.  Father 
was  a  natural  leader  at  such  times,  and  as 
he  kept  the  schoolhouse  key,  me  an'  Ed 
would  be  sent  up  early  of  a  night  to  build 
the  fire  an'  light  the  lamps.  We  used  to 
sock  the  wood  to  that  old  box  stove  till 
the  top  got  red  hot  an'  the  pipe  roared. 
Then  we'd  set  around  an'  wait  for  the 
folks  to  come. 

Old  Henry  Simmonds  was  always  the 
first  to  arrive. 

"  Wall,  boys,"  he'd  say  to  me  an'  Ed, 
"  I  see  you  got  a  good  fire  goin'.  But 
that  ain't  nothin'  to  the  fire  as'll  roast  poor 
sinners  if  they  don't  obey  the  call  an' 
come  for'ard.  Git  religion,  boys,"  he'd 
say.  "  Git  religion  early  in  life  an'  be  an 
honor  to  your  father  an'  mother."  Then 
he'd  sit  down  in  front  of  the  stove  an'  spit 
terbacker  juice  though  the  damper. 

Father  never  said  nothin'  to  us  'bout 
gettin'  religion,  'cause  he  thought  us  too 
young,  but  me  an'  Ed  'ud  get  mighty 
serious  now  an'  then,  as  we  was  terrible 

94 


GETTIN'  RELIGION 

'fraid  of  dyin'  an'  goin'  to  the  bad  place 
an*  welterin'  in  the  fires  there.  It  was 
good  an'  real  to  us  then,  I  tell  you ;  for 
beside  what  old  Henry  Simmonds  was 
eternally  dingin'  into  our  ears  an'  what 
"  Long  John "  Clark,  a  local  preacher 
with  a  powerful,  pleadin'  voice  and  an 
earnest  way  with  him,  was  always  preachin' 
'bout  fire  an'  brimstone,  we'd  the  old 
family  Bible  at  home,  with  its  scarey  pic 
tures,  to  keep  us  shiverin'  most  of  the 
time. 

There  was  one  picture  in  that  Bible  I'll 
never  forget.  It  was  'long  in  Revelations 
an'  was  intended  to  show  how  an  Angel 
come  to  lock  up  Satan  every  thousand 
years.  There  was  Hell  itself  a  rollin'  an' 
tossin'  in  flames,  the  smoke  curlin'  up  in 
great  clouds  'round  about.  Then  there 
was  the  Devil  in  the  shape  of  a  horrible 
dragon  with  claw  feet  an'  savage,  sharp 
teeth,  an'  a  skin  on  him  like  a  rhinoceros, 
crouchin'  back,  while  a  tall  Angel  in  bare 
feet  an'  long  hair  confronted  him  with  a 

95 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

ponderous  iron  key.  Blame  if  it  didn't 
just  about  set  our  teeth  to  chatterin'  every 
time  we  looked  at  that  picture  ! 

But  it  didn't  take  me  an'  Ed  long  to 
forget  all  about  the  Devil  an'  the  bad 
place  the  minute  we  got  out  into  the  open 
air,  with  the  sun  shinin'  overhead  an'  with 
some  mischief  or  other  in  our  minds.  I 
guess  we  was  too  full  of  life  to  take  things 
seriously. 

Well,  this  winter,  long  comes  the  young 
English  preacher  to  hold  protracted  meet- 
in',  and  he  was  the  most  earnest  young 
feller  you  ever  see.  He  had  the  "peni 
tentiary"  bench  full  of  "convicts"  the  first 
week,  as  old  Dan,  the  French  tailor,  used 
to  say. 

I  never  told  you  about  Dan,  did  I  ? 
Well,  I  will  some  time.  He  was  a  case 
for  twistin'  words. 

Me  an'  Ed  an'  a  few   more   boys  set 

back  by  the  stove  an'  made  no  move,  but 

we  could  feel  that  the  spirit  or  somethin' 

was  workin'  in  us.    We  knew  we  was  awful 

96 


GETTIN'  RELIGION 

sinners,  but  we  hadn't  the  nerve  to  go 
forward.  Will  Tinker  went  forward,  after 
a  bit,  and  I  remember  well  how  I  wished 
I  was  him.  I  could  catch  a  glimpse  of 
him  a  blubberin'  away  an'  gettin'  saved  at 
one  end  of  the  penitent  bench,  and  when 
the  prayin'  was  over  an'  the  tellin'  of 
experiences  begun,  me  an'  Ed  'ud  whisper 
back  an'  forth,  after  sizin'  up  the  faces, 
and  guess  who'd  got  religion  that  night. 
Some  would  come  up  tearful  an'  look  as 
if  all  their  friends  an'  neighbors  was  dead 
an'  buried ;  while  others  would  be  calm- 
faced  an'  waitin'  eagerly  to  be  called  on 
to  tell  what  the  Lord  had  done  for  them. 

One  night,  after  me  an'  Ed  had  gone  to 
bed  an'  I  was  just  beginnin'  to  doze  off, 
Ed  scratched  my  leg  with  his  big  toe — a 
signal  he  had  for  openin'  conversation. 

"George,"  says  he  to  me,  "I'm  goin' 
for'ard  to-morrow  night." 

"You  dasn't  do  it,"  says  I. 

"Yes,  I  dast,"  says  he.  "I'm  goin' 
for'ard  an'  git  religion." 

97 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Ed  was  such  a  positive  feller  that  it 
kinder  stumped  me  for  a  minute,  but  I 
dasn't  let  him  see  he'd  had  the  courage 
to  say  what  I  dasn't. 

"  You  go  to  sleep  !  "  says  I.  "  You're 
a  fool!" 

"  Well,  I'm  goin'  for'ard  just  the  same," 
says  he. 

"You  dasn't  go  for'ard  without  me," 
says  I. 

"  I  dare,  too,"  says  he.  "  I'll  kneel 
'longside  of  Will  Tinker." 

I  lay  an'  thought,  and  was  mighty  un 
comfortable.  I  knew  if  Ed  went  forward 
an'  left  me  by  the  stove  I'd  be  looked  on 
as  an  outcast  sinner,  and  Ed  'ud  crow 
over  me  like  sixty  if  he  got  religion  an'  I 
didn't. 

But  matters  changed  in  my  favor  the 
next  night.  When  the  call  to  come  for 
ward  came  from  the  young  preacher,  Ed 
was  pale  as  a  sheet,  and  didn't  stir. 

"  I  thought  you  was  goin'  for'ard  ?  " 
says  I  in  a  whisper. 

98 


GETTIN'  RELIGION 

He  chawed  a  sliver,  but  didn't  say  a 
word. 

"  Ain't  you  goin'  to  git  religion  ?  "  says 
I,  nudgin'  him,  for  I  see  he  was  scart. 

"  George,"  says  he  faintly,  "  you  go  first; 
I'll  foller." 

That  was  what  I  wanted,  and  when  the 
next  call  come  I  marched  up,  with  Ed  at 
my  heels,  givin'  Tish  Brown  a  wink  out  of 
my  left  eye  as  I  passed  her. 

We  knelt  'side  of  Will  Tinker,  who  was 
still  seekin';  and,  diggin'  our  knuckles 
into  our  eyes,  waited  for  religion  to  come. 

"  Felt  anything  yet  ? "  says  I  to  Will, 
nudgin'  him. 

"  Not  a  blame  thing !  "  says  he,  "  and 
my  knees  is  'bout  wore  out !  " 

I  could  hear  Ed  mumblin'  away,  and 
so  I  started  in  to  say  my  prayers,  but  it 
didn't  seem  natural,  it  not  bein'  bed-time. 

By  an'  by  'long  come  old  Henry  Sim- 
monds,  who  patted  our  heads. 

"  Good  boys,"  says  he  in  his  croaky 
voice.  "  Save  the  lambs,  Lord  !  "  says  he, 

99 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

and  as  he  said  it  he  stumbled  over  the  end 
of  a  bench. 

Will  Tinker  snickered  right  out,  and  I 
hid  my  face  in  my  hands  to  keep  from 
laughin'.  Say  !  I  never  wanted  to  laugh  so 
bad  in  all  my  life.  Me  an'  Will  'ud  look 
at  one  'nother  sideways  an'  then  giggle  to 
ourselves,  but  Ed  kept  as  serious  as  a 
judge. 

We  didn't  git  religion  that  night  or  the 
next.  Will  Tinker  give  up  in  despair  an' 
left  off  goin'  for'ard,  but  me  an'  Ed  hung 
it  out. 

Finally,  one  night  in  bed  I  felt  Ed's 
•big  toe  scrapin'  along  my  calf  an'  I  knew 
somethin'  was  comin'. 

"  George,"  says  he,  "I  b'lieve  I've  got 
it!" 

"Got  what?  "  says  I. 

"  Religion,"  says  he. 

"When  did  you  get  it?  "  says  I. 

"Well,  I've  been  figurin,"  says  he, 
"and  I  guess  I've  got  it." 

I  argued  pro  an'  con,  but  couldn't 
100 


GETTIN'  RELIGION 

shake  him.  I  was  in  a  pickle.  I  knew 
positive  that  I  hadn't  been  moved  a  peg, 
but  I  dasn't  let  Ed  get  ahead  of  me. 

Next  night,  while  we  was  buildin'  the 
fire,  I  says  to  him: — 

"Ed,"  says  I,  "if  you've  got  it,  I've 
got  it,  too." 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  says  he. 

"Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  Ed,"  says  I, 
"  I  ain't  dead  certain." 

"  I  guess  you've  got  it,  George,"  says 
he,  "  for  you've  looked  solemn  all  day." 

We  stood  up  that  night  among  the 
saved,  and  father  talked  very  nice  to  us 
an'  mother  cried  a  heap. 

The  next  day  we  started  out  to  live  a 
pious  life,  and  carried  our  Sunday-school 
lesson  in  our  pockets.  We  prayed  for 
everybody  we  knew  an'  felt  quite  lifted 
up  for  nigh  a  week,  and  then  the  crash 
came. 

It  was  this  way :  Up  in  the  gables  of 
our  barn  was  four  little  star-shaped  holes 
for  the  pigeons  to  come  in  an'  out,  and 
101 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

just  below  them  holes  a  pair  of  martins 
had  built  their  mud  nest,  and  me  an'  Ed 
had  been  figurin'  for  some  time  how  to 
get  up  there  an'  investigate  the  martin 
family.  We  could  climb  up  just  so  far 
an'  then  have  to  give  up. 

Well,  this  day  we  started  in  to  make  a 
sure  thing  of  them  martins.  We  took  off 
our  boots,  and  diggin'  our  toes  into  the 
clapboards  an'  hangin'  to  the  joist,  began 
to  climb.  Up  we  went,  higher'n  ever, 
and  I  got  so  I  could  just  reach  the  bottom 
of  the  martin's  nest,  when  I  heard  a  yell 
from  Ed  an'  see  him  tumble  backward  to 
the  mow  below.  He  struck  kerflop  in 
the  soft  pea  straw,  and  at  once  began  to 
holler.  I  crawled  back  as  fast  as  I  could, 
thinkin'  he'd  hurt  himself.  When  I 
reached  the  mow  I  found  him  sittin'  on  a 
beam  with  one  foot  in  his  hand,  the  toes 
all  twisted  up  an'  him  a  cryin'  to  beat  the 
band. 

"  Dum  them  thistles  !  "  he  says,  sobbin'. 
"  Gosh  dum  them  blame  thistles  !  " 

IO2 


GETTIN'  RELIGION 

He'd  dropped  fair  into  a  bunch  of  straw 
full  of  thistles — dry,  old,  sharp,  brown 
fellers — that  run  in  like  needles,  and  his 
feet  was  full  of  'em. 

"  Do  they  hurt  you,  Ed?"  says  I,  feel- 
in'  bad  for  him. 

He  let  out  a  yell,  and  I  see  he  was  crazy 
mad. 

"  Gosh  dum  them  thistles ! "  was  all  he 
could  say.  "  Gosh  dum  them  gosh  dum 
thistles ! " 

When  he'd  quieted  down  some  I  started 
in  to  help  him  pick  the  thistles  from  his 
feet  an'  clothes,  and  I  says  to  him  : — 

"  Ed,"  says  I,  "  I  thought  you  had  re 
ligion  ? " 

"  Dum  them  thistles  ! — blame  'em  !  " 
says  he.  "  Gosh  dum  'em  ! !  " 

"  Ed,"  says  I,  "  stop  cussin'.  You  got 
religion." 

"  I  ain't  got  no  religion !  Dum  re 
ligion  ! "  he  howls. 

"You're  a  backslider,"  says  I,  nippin' 
along,  ugly  thistle  from  the  calf  of  his  leg. 
103 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  Dum  religion !  "  says  he,  sobbin'. 
"  Dum  the  martins,  too  !  "  says  he,  glanc- 
in'  up  at  them.  "  Gosh  dum  'em  !  " 

"Ed,"  says  I,  "you'll  go  to  the  bad 
place,  sure." 

"  I  don't  give  a  dum  !  "  says  he. 

"I'll  go  to  Heaven,"  says  I,  "and 
you'll  go  to  the  bad  place." 

•'  Go  where  you  like,"  says  he.  "  There 
ain't  no  thistles  in  the  bad  place,  any 
how,"  says  he,  defiant  as  you  please. 

He  kept  dummin'  away  savage  as  could 
be  till  he'd  found  the  last  thistle.  Then 
we  went  to  play  over  by  the  pig-pen. 

That  night  Ed's  big  toe  told  me  he'd 
somethin'  to  say,  and  I  waited. 

"  George,"  says  he,  "I  wish  you'd  give 
it  up." 

"  Give  up  what?  "  says  I. 

"  Religion,"  says  he.  "  I  ain't  got  it  an' 
I  don't  want  to  go  to  the  bad  place  alone." 

In  my  heart  I  was  glad  to  be  let  off 
from  prayin'  an'  bein'  solemn,  but  I  made 
the  most  of  it. 

104 


GETTIN'  RELIGION 

"  Give  me  the  green  alley  with  the 
white  rings,"  says  I,  "and  I'll  do  it." 

"I'll  give  you  four  brown  marbles," 
says  he. 

"  The  green  alley,"  says  I,  "or  I  stick." 

"  I'll  give  you  five,"  says  he. 

"  Nothin'  but  the  green  alley,"  says  I, 
for  I  knew  I  had  him. 

He  thought  for  some  time  an'  finally 
wavered. 

"  Say  fdum  religion,'  same's  I  did,"  says 
he,  "and  I'll  give  you  the  green  alley." 

I  had  to  say  it,  and  then  we  both  went 
to  sleep.  We  was  hardened  sinners  from 
that  time  on,  until  Ed  growed  up  an* 
got  to  be  a  preacher  himself. 

One  day  I  says  to  him,  sittin'  smokin' 
in  his  study,  when  he  was  preparin'  a  ser 
mon  :  "Ed,"  says  I,  "  do  you  remember 
that  time  we  went  up  after  martins  an' 
lost  religion  ?  " 

Ed  grinned.  "  You  don't  ever  forget 
anything,  George,"  says  he.  "  What  boys 
we  was  ! " 

105 


The   Persuasive  Eloquence  of 
John  Wesley  Cuff 

You've  all  read  in  books  an'  newspapers 
about  certain  men  bein'  such  orators  that 
they  could  move  their  audiences  to  laugh 
ter  or  tears  by  the  magic  of  their  voice. 
I  heard  once  that  Bob  Ingersoll  was  such 
a  man,  and  I  went  to  hear  him,  but  he 
didn't  move  me  any.  He's  a  good  talker, 
is  Bob,  but  do  you  know,  that  instead  of 
movin'  me  along  with  him  he  kinder 
grated  on  my  sensibilities,  for  I  was  farmer 
born  an'  bred,  and  it  rasped  me  up  an' 
down  the  back  the  way  he  pitched  into 
all  that  I'd  been  taught  to  hold  sacred. 

I  heard  Phillips   Brooks  once,  too,  but 

he    was    no    orator.      Prob'ly     the     best 

speaker  I   ever   heard  was  old  Sir   John 

MacDonald.      I    never    agreed    with    Sir 

106 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

John  in  politics,  but  I  must  own  he  could 
tell  his  side  of  the  story  in  a  way  to  con 
vince  anybody  not  born  a  Grit. 

The  speakers  that  we  read  about  don't 
'mount  to  so  much  when  we  actually  hear 
'em,  and  I  must  confess  I  never  met  but 
one  man  who  could  simply  toy  with  the 
human  emotions,  and  that  man  was  a  chap 
by  the  name  of  John  Wesley  Cuff,  or,  as 
he  was  more  commonly  called,  Wess  Cuff. 

Wess  wasn't  a  particularly  strikin'  in 
dividual,  but  he  wasn't  bad  lookin'  an' 
had  a  good  figure.  He  was  a  driver  for 
a  livery  stable;  not  a  high  position,  but  one 
which  he  made  the  most  of.  He'd  a  low, 
soft,  sweet  voice  for  a  man,  with  tones  in 
it  like  the  purr  of  a  cat.  With  this  voice 
always  went  a  magical  smile.  I  say  magi 
cal,  for  it  was  really  magical.  He  could 
smile  with  either  his  eyes,  his  mouth,  his 
forehead  or  his  cheeks,  without  disturbin' 
the  other  parts,  or  he  could  unite  'em  all 
in  one  marvellous  smirk  that  'ud  enchant 
an'  captivate  the  unwary. 
107 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Jimmy  O'Shay,  the  old  deer  hunter, 
introduced  me  to  John  Wesley  Cuff. 
Jimmy  had  hired  Wess  to  go  back  with 
him  to  Whistlin'  Coon  Lake,  a  distance 
of  fifty  miles  from  the  borders  of  civiliza 
tion,  after  a  load  of  deer  which  he'd  shot 
several  weeks  before  an'  left  hangin'  in 
the  woods  out  of  reach  of  bears  an' 
wolves. 

Jimmy  O'Shay  was  a  character,  too,  but 
this  story  isn't  about  him.  I'll  only  say 
that  Jimmy  had  a  particularly  soft  heart 
that  went  well  with  his  snow-white  hair ; 
that  he  loved  bravery  an'  despised  mean 
ness,  and  that  he  was  the  most  famous 
swearer  between  Toronto  an'  Montreal. 
Oaths  fairly  rippled  from  the  lips  of 
Jimmy  O'Shay,  and  it  could  truthfully  be 
said  that  he  exuded  profanity ;  but  the 
strange  part  of  it  was  that  you  seldom 
noticed  that  he  was  swearin',  he  did  it  so 
natural  like. 

I'd  never  been  back  in  the  real  wilder 
ness,  so  when  Jimmy  invited  me  to 
108 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

accompany  him  on  his  trip,  I  accepted 
with  spirit,  for  I  wanted  to  see  the  back 
country.  I  saw  it,  and  I  don't  want  to 
see  it  again.  Once  is  enough  for  me. 

Well,  we  got  started  all  right,  with  a 
fine  team  of  gray  horses  an'  a  big  bob 
sleigh  with  the  bottom  full  of  straw  to 
keep  our  feet  warm.  Between  Jimmy  an' 
Wess  they  kept  the  conversation  lively. 
They  couldn't  agree  on  a  single  point,  and 
refused  to  be  convinced  when  I  decided 
a  point  one  way  or  t'other.  They  knowed 
everybody  who'd  ever  lived  for  miles  an' 
miles  around,  and  each  had  a  positive 
opinion  to  express. 

Jimmy  'ud  say  to  Wess : — 

"  Wess,"  he'd  say,  "  what's  the  good  o' 
you  talkin'  to  me,  when  I  know  that 
every  word  rollin'  out  yer  throat's  a  lie  !  " 

And  Wess  'ud  return: — 

"Jimmy,"  he'd  say,  "there  ain't  a  man 

far  an'  near  as  I  respect  more'n  I  do  you. 

You've  been  like  a  father  to  me,  Jimmy, 

but  I   must  say  that,  for  a  man  of  your 

109 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

age,  you've  the  most  distorted  notion  of 
facts  of  any  man  alive.  I  don't  say  you 
lie,  Jimmy — remember  that.  I  honor  age  ; 
but  I  do  say  that  you  don't  know  what 
you're  talkin'  about  half  the  time." 

Then  Jimmy  'ud  breathe  profanity  on 
the  frosty  air  an'  start  all  over  again. 

We  passed  the  jumpin'-off  place  at  noon 
of  the  second  day,  and  then  had  to  pick 
a  road  as  best  we  could  along  a  blazed 
trail,  which  wasn't  difficult  as  long  as  the 
light  held  out.  It  was  the  intention  of 
my  companions  to  reach  the  home  of  the 
Bheels,  a  family  of  backwoods  farmers, 
before  dark,  but  the  night  fairly  dropped 
on  us  before  we  was  within  five  miles  of 
the  Bheels'  clearin',  and  we  had  to  pick 
our  way  cautious  like  'long  among  the 
stumps  an'  trees. 

We  was  half  frozen  when  we  caught  the 
first  glimmer  of  light  ahead,  and  sure 
enough,  it  turned  out  to  be  the  cabin  of 
the  Bheels. 

Wess  drove  up  before  the  door  with  a 

1 10 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

flourish.  A  couple  of  half-starved  curs 
come  yelpin'  round  the  corner  of  the 
house,  and  Wess  lifted  up  his  voice  in  a 
cheery  "  Hallo  !  " 

The  cabin  door  opened  an*  I  saw  a 
stout  woman  in  the  entry,  with  half  a 
dozen  eager  faces  peerin'  over  her 
shoulders. 

"  The  <  Queen  of  the  Woods '  an'  her 
fairies,  by  all  the  gods ! "  cried  Wess, 
standin'  up  in  the  sleigh  an'  bowin'  pro 
foundly. 

"It's  that  there  Wess  Cuff,"  I  heard 
the  "  Queen "  say,  as  she  turned  to  her 
attendant  fairies,  and  then  she  called : — 

"  Is  that  you,  Wess,  sure  enough  ?  " 

"  It's  me,  mother, — just  poor  little  me 
an'  Jimmy  an'  a  young  feller  out  for  his 
health.  Can  you  put  us  up  ?  " 

We  didn't  wait  for  a  reply,  but  bundled 
out  into  the  snow,  and  gatherin'  up  an 
armful  of  blankets  an'  provender  each,  we 
entered  the  house. 

It  was  a  log  house,  one  story  an'  a  six- 
iii 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

teenth  high.  The  parlor,  dinin'-room, 
spare  bedroom,  library,  kitchen  an'  wood- 
house  was  all  on  the  first  floor.  There 
was  no  partitions  between  these  rooms. 
The  family  bedrooms  was  in  bunks  along 
the  south  wall  of  the  cabin,  and  the  room 
for  guests  an'  dogs  was  on  the  floor  be 
hind  the  cook-stove, — that  is,  if  the  guests 
didn't  choose  to  crawl  up  a  ladder  into  the 
loft  an'  run  the  risk  of  losin'  their  lives  in 
collision  with  bundles  of  seed  corn  on  the 
ear,  suspended  from  the  rafters.  There 
was  a  bare  table  in  the  combination  room, 
several  rough  wooden  chairs,  a  cupboard 
with  a  few  dishes,  and  the  rest  of  the  fur- 
nishin's  was  human  or  animal. 

First,  there  was  father  Bheel,  a  weak- 
eyed  man,  slender  an'  stooped,  who  might 
be  any  age  you  could  guess.  He  chawed 
terbacker  earnestly  an'  spit  into  the 
damper  from  any  point  in  the  room  with 
a  directness  that  would  have  made  his 
fortune  on  the  variety  stage.  He  was  a 
man  given  to  silence. 
112 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

Second,  there  was  mother  Bheel — a 
large  woman,  rugged  an'  mighty  in  her 
massiveness  of  strength.  She  pervaded 
the  cabin  with  form  an'  voice.  She  was 
certainly  a  woman  that  made  her  presence 
felt.  I'd  not  call  her  face  handsome;  it 
was  far  from  that.  It  wasn't  a  motherly 
face  either,  but  for  all  it  was  a  strong  and 
genuinely  feminine  face.  She  was  a  tire 
less  talker,  but  her  voice  run  to  harshness, 
caused  likely  by  the  high  pitch  at  which 
she  kept  it. 

Third,  there  was  Bobby  Bheel — a  young 
man,  p'raps  twenty-one,  with  a  natural 
growth  of  whiskers  an'  brains.  He  like 
wise  was  an  expert  marksman,  although 
I've  see  him  miss, — somethin'  his  father 
never  did. 

Fourth,  there  was  the  girls — Minnie, 
Ellen  an'  Mamie — twenty,  eighteen,  six 
teen, — blonde,  with  faded  brown  hair; 
blonde,  with  very  much  faded  brown  hair; 
blonde,  with  bright  red  hair.  Passable — 
homely — pretty.  All  wore  short  dresses 

"3 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

an'  was  bare-footed.  All  had  outgrown 
their  dresses,  as  could  be  seen  from  the 
free  play  given  their  wrists  an'  hands,  and 
all  preferred  safety  pins  to  buttons,  as 
was  likewise  exteriorly  manifested.  All 
was  bashful — all  was  curious,  and  all 
thought  John  Wesley  Cuff  was  the  most 
delightful  man  in  the  world. 

Fifth,  there  was  the  dogs — Jerry  an' 
Stingo — friends  an'  lovers ;  passionately 
fond  of  one  another's  ears;  sharp-eyed 
hound  pups,  with  sweet  dispositions  an' 
very  accommodatin'  when  requested  to 
give  place  by  the  stove  to  another  mem 
ber  of  the  family. 

After  supper — I  won't  describe  that 
supper.  It  was  what  reporters  call  "  unfit 
for  publication."  After  supper  Jimmy 
an'  I  decided  that  the  air  of  the  general 
room  wasn't  good  for  us,  and  that  we'd 
crawl  up  into  the  attic  an'  go  to  sleep. 
This  we  did,  but  we  didn't  go  to  sleep, 
for  every  word  said  below  could  plainly 
be  heard  by  us. 

114 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

The  family,  with  Wess  seated  between 
Minnie  an'  Mamie  on  a  bench,  immedi 
ately  at  the  rear  of  the  stove,  evidently 
had  no  intention  of  retirin'  before  dawn. 
The  conversation  was  all  interestin',  but  I 
only  want  to  tell  you  that  part  which 
shows  up  the  wonderful  persuasiveness  of 
John  Wesley  Cuff. 

"  Bobby,"  says  Wess,  in  his  softest, 
sweetest  tone, — "  Bobby,"  says  he,  "  when 
I  come  in  to-night  I  was  a  little  surprised 
at  you,  Bobby.  When  your  father  told 
you  to  run  an'  put  up  the  horses,  you 
didn't  jump  at  the  word,  Bobby,"  says 
he,  "  the  way  a  smart,  active  boy  like  you 
should.  You  hung  'round  the  fire,  Bobby, 
and  let  your  poor  old  father  go  first — 
now,  didn't  you  ? " 

"  Naw,  I  didn't,"  says  Bobby  in  a 
muffled  tone. 

"  Yes,  you  did,  drat  you  !  "  yells  the  old 
man.  "  Don't  answer  me  back  !  You — 
shut  up,  there,  or  I'll  swat  you!" 

Silence  for  a  moment,  and  then  Wess's 

"5 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

gentle  voice : — "  Bobby,  how  would  you 
like  to  see  your  dear  old  father  laid  out  in 
his  coffin, — arms  folded,  eyes  shut,  with 
coppers  on  'em,  and  the  hearse  standin' 
outside  the  door  to  bear  his  body  away  to 
the  grave !  Wouldn't  you  think  then  of 
your  dear  old  father,  Bobby  ? — of  how  he 
raised  you  from  a  boy,  and  worked  an' 
sweat  for  you  to  give  you  a  livin'  and  an 
education  ?  Wouldn't  it  just  break  your 
heart,  Bobby,  to  recall  the  many  times 
you've  let  your  father  do  the  chores  which 
you  could  have  done  as  well  an'  saved  his 
dear  old  back  ?  Ah,  yes  ! — you'll  think 
of  that,  Bobby,  when  your  dear  old 
father's  gray  hairs  are  laid  away  an'  his 
back's  straightened  out  in  death  ! " 

The  audible  grief  of  the  family  could 
now  be  distinctly  heard,  and  comin'  from 
between  sobs  which  shook  Mrs.  Bheel's 
powerful,  maternal  bosom,  was  these 
words : — 

"  Say  you  will,  Bobby  !  " — a  big  sob — 
"  say  you  will,  Bobby  !  " 
116 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

"  I  don't  wanter  see'm  dead,  and  I 
never  said  I  did,"  says  Bobby,  defiantly. 

"  Oh,  Bobby !  you're  horrid  !  "  snaps 
Minnie. 

"  I  ain't,  neither !  "  says  Bobby. 

"  Shet  up  there,  you  !  Don't  you  sass 
your  sister!"  cries  his  father.  "A  bad, 
undutiful  son  you  are,  and  you  know  it." 

"  I  ain't,  neither !  "  says  Bobby. 

"Shet  up! — shet  up! — or  I'll  swat 
you ! "  again  scolds  the  old  man. 

Then  Wess  glides  into  the  discord 
with  :  "  Bobby,  you're  a  good  boy.  "I  ain't 
down  on  you,  Bobby.  I  always  told  your 
dear  mother  you  was  a  bright  boy.  f  Mrs. 
Bheel,'  I  says  to  her  many's  an'  many's  a 
time,  c  Bobby'll  be  a  handsome  man, 
Mrs.  Bheel,  and  look  just  like  you,  Mrs. 
Bheel.'  Now,  didn't  I  say  them  words, 
mother  ? " 

"  That  you  did,  Mr.  Cuff,"  replied  the 

flattered  mother,  with  pride  in  her  voice. 

"  You  said  them  very  words,  Mr.  Cuff, 

and   Bobby's   a   handsome    boy,    though 

117 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

who  he  took  it  from,  the  Lord  knows ! 
for  it  was  certainly  not  his  father,  and  as 
for  me " 


(C 


Mrs.  Bheel ! — mother  !  "  says  Wess. 
"  Go  slow,  now ;  not  so  fast  there.  You 
ain't  blarneyin'  with  Jimmy  now,  but 
talkin'  with  J  ohn  Wesley  Cuff,  who  never 
says  a  word  he  don't  mean  an'  can't  prove. 
I  know  where  Bobby  gets  his  good  looks, 
and  where  Minnie  an'  Mamie  an'  Ellen 
here  get  their  beauty, — oh,  I  know  !  " 

Wess  must  have  squeezed  the  girls  at 
this  point,  for  they  gave  a  little  scream  an' 
Mrs.  Bheel  said: 

"Girls  !  girls  ! — don't  be  shy.  It's  only 
Mr.  Cuff." 

Wess  continued,  and  I  could  imagine 
how  blandly  he  smiled: — 

"Yes,  Bobby  is  a  handsome  boy  an' 
his  whiskers  are  very  becomin',"  he  says. 
"  Now,  Bobby,  I  want  you  to  think. 
You're  a  good  boy  at  heart,  Bobby,  and 
I  know  you  love  your  father  an'  mother 
an'  your  three  pretty  sisters,  and  you 
118 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

wouldn't  want  to  go  away  an'  leave  'em. 
So,  Bobby,  when  you  see  your  father 
move  to'ards  the  barn,  you  must  jump  in 
ahead  of  him  an'  have  the  chores  all  done 
before  he  passes  the  woodpile.  It's  in 
you  to  do  it,  Bobby, — now  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  I  like  to  be  good,"  says  Bobby,  quite 
plaintive. 

"  Yes,  he  does,"  says  his  father.  "  Bobby 
is  a  'tarnal  good  boy.  Why,  only  last 
ploughin'  I  says  to  John  Chinneck,  as  I 
handed  him  a  chaw  of  terbacker — t  John,' 
says  I,  'if  you  only  had  a  boy  like  my 
Bobby,  'twould  be  easier  for  you,'  and 
John  'lowed  it  would." 

"Now,  that's  what  I  always  thought," 
says  Wess.  "  So  here  we  are,  all  happy 
an'  lovin'  an'  admirin'  of  one  'nother." 

Then  says  he  :  "  Mamie,"  he  says,  "  do 
you  go  to  school  now  ?  " 

"  Not  in  winter  time,  Mr.  Cuff,"  says 
Mamie. 

"Can  you  read  an'  write  ?  "  says  he. 

"  Can  Mamie  read  an'  write !  "  cries 
119 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Mrs.  Bheel.  "You  jest  show  him  what 
you  can  do,  Mamie.  Why,  she's  the 
scholar  of  the  family  !  " 

"Now,  mother,  go  slow — go  slow,"  says 
Wess.  "  Remember,  you  ain't  talkin'  to 
Jimmy  O'Shay  now,"  says  he.  "  Don't 
I  know  these  girls,  one  an'  all  ?  Haven't 
I  known  'em  for  years  ?  Don't  you  go  to 
disparagin'  your  oldest  daughters,  Mrs. 
Bheel,  just  because  they  ain't  attendin' 
ladies'  colleges  or  havin'  the  priv'lege  of 
three  months'  schoolin'  each  summer,  the 
same's  Mamie." 

"I  ain't  disparagin'  'em,"  says  Mrs. 
Bheel. 

"Well,  it  sounds  very  much  like  it, 
when  you  go  an'  set  up  your  youngest 
child  as  the  scholar  of  the  family  right 
over  the  heads  of  her  beautiful  sisters." 

Minnie  an'  Ellen  was  now  in  tears.  I 
could  plainly  hear  'em  sobbin'  and  Mrs. 
Bheel  evidently  felt  very  uncomfortable. 

"It's  a  terrible  thing,  Mrs.  Bheel," 
continues  Wess,  "  to  flaunt  one  child  over 
1 20 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

another.  It  breeds  discord  an'  envy. 
Don't  cry,  Minnie.  Cheer  up,  Ellen ; 
don't  take  it  so  to  heart.  Even  if  your 
mother  does  go  back  on  you  an'  put  up 
Mamie  as  the  only  child  she  loves,  I'll 
stand  by  you,  and  so  will  your  father  an' 
Bobby.  You'll  be  all  right  yet  when  you 
go  out  front  an'  marry  a  handsome,  rich 
man  apiece,  and  then  won't  your  mother 
miss  you !  " 

"  I  never  said  I  didn't  love  them  girls  !  " 
sobs  Mrs.  Bheel. 

"Well,  well,"  says  Wess,  "we  won't 
argue  it  any  further.  I'm  waitin'  for 
Mamie  to  read  for  me." 

"  I  won't  read  for  you  !  "  says  Mamie, 
with  a  pout. 

"Mamie,"  says  Wess,  "you'll  fall  off 
the  bench  if  you  move  any  further  away, 
and  Ellen  will  slip  in  between  you  an'  me. 
Come  here  to  my  side.  Now,  Mamie, 
look  me  in  the  eyes.  You're  angry  at 
me,  Mamie,  'cause  I  stuck  up  for  your  sis 
ters.  Did  I  say,  Mamie,  that  you  wasn't 
121 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

the  cutest  little  girl  back  of  Cloyne  ?  Did 
I  say  that  you  wasn't  so  blame  handsome, 
with  them  black  eyes  an'  red  lips  of  yours, 
that  if  you'd  dare  to  step  your  foot  out 
front  the  fellers  wouldn't  make  a  dead  set 
for  you? — now,  did  I,  Mamie?" 

"  No,  you  didn't,"  says  Mamie,  mild  as 
a  kitten. 

"Then  read  to  me,"  says  Wess. 

She  read,  or  stumbled  over  a  lesson 
from  the  Second  Reader  about  "  Silver- 
locks  an'  the  Bears,"  and  when  she'd 
done,  Wess  clapped  his  hands. 

"  A  kiss  for  reward  !  "  he  cried,  and  I 
heard  the  smack  plainly. 

Everything  was  quiet  now  for  a  few 
minutes,  and  no  sound  broke  the  stillness 
save  the  sizzlin'  in  the  fire  when  father 
Bheel  struck  the  bulls'-eye. 

Then  Wess  began  again  at  Bobby : 

"  Bobby,"  he  says,  "is  it  actually  true 
that  you'll  set  here  by  the  stove  burnin' 
the  soles  off  your  boots,  while  your  dear, 
kind  mother  carries  in  the  wood  ?  You 

122 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

may  think,  Bobby,  that  I  don't  notice,  but 
I  do." 

"  She  never  asks  me,"  says  Bobby,  with 
a  growl. 

"  He  wouldn't  do  it  if  I  did  ask  him," 
returns  his  mother. 

"He  makes  us  carry  all  the  water,  too," 
says  the  girls  in  chorus. 

"  It  ain't  no  sech  thing,"  says  Bobby, 
fidgetin'. 

"Shet  up,  or  I'll  swat  your  face !  "  cries 
Mr.  Bheel,  wakin'  up.  "  Shet  up,  you 
unnatural  son,  you  !  " 

"  Ah,  me  !  "  says  Wess,  "  that's  the  way 
with  boys.  Here's  Bobby,  a  great,  strap- 
pin'  feller  capable  of  doin'  two  men's 
work,  and  yet  he  sits  by  the  fire  and  lets 
his  father  do  the  chores,  his  delicate 
mother  carry  in  the  wood  an'  his  sweet 
sisters  bend  their  frail  backs  luggin'  water. 
You'd  ought  to  be  ashamed,  Bobby — 
that's  what  you  had.  You'd  ought  to  feel 
too  mean  to  hold  up  your  head." 

"  He's  a  lazy,  good-for-nothin',"  says 
123 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Mrs.  Bheel.  "  All  he  can  do  is  shovel  in 
sauerkraut  an'  salt  pork.  He's  an  un 
grateful  boy,  and  I  always  said  it." 

"  Now,  you  know  I  ain't,  mother," 
says  Bobby,  chokin'  up. 

"  Yes,  you  be !  "  yells  the  old  man, — 
"  yes,  you  be,  you  lazy  lummicks  !  Don't 
open  your  mouth  to  me,  sir,  or  I'll  swat 
your  face ! " 

"  I  don't  see  why  you're  all  down  on 
me  !  "  sobs  Bobby. 

"  'Cause  you're  a  bad,  ungrateful  boy," 
says  his  mother. 

A  few  minutes  of  painful  silence  now 
ensued ;  then  I  heard  the  voice  of  John 
Wesley  Cuff,  and  by  its  tone  I  felt  he  was 
goin'  to  calm  the  storm. 

"  Bobby,"  says  he,  "  there  ain't  no 
doubt  that  you've  let  your  mother  carry 
in  wood,  but  I  don't  believe  you'll  ever 
do  it  again.  You  musn't  let  her  do  it, 
Bobby.  It  makes  her  bend  her  back, 
Bobby,  and  if  she  keeps  it  up,  it'll  spoil 
her  figure,  which  mustn't  be  ;  for,  Bobby, 
124 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

do  you  ever  realize  what  a  handsome, 
young-lookin'  mother  you  have,  and  that 
she's  generally  considered  the  finest-built 
woman  back  of  Cloyne  ? 

"Think  how  you'd  miss  her,  Bobby, were 
she  to  break  her  back  one  day  over  a  pine 
knot !  Who'd  sew  earlappers  into  your 
cap  then  ?  Who'd  darn  your  mittens  then, 
Bobby,  and  knit  new  feet  into  your  socks  ? 
Who'd  make  the  sauerkraut  an'  dried 
apple  pie,  which  you  love  so  well,  if  your 
mother  was  turned  into  an  angel  an*  flew 
away? 

"  Look  at  her  now,  Bobby,  sittin'  by 
your  side,  and  then  think  of  your  loss  !" 

"  You  praise  me  too  high,  Mr.  CufF — 
you  certainly  do,'"  says  Mrs.  Bheel,  but 
I  knew  that  her  heart  was  glad  in  her. 

"You're  so  modest,"  says  Wess.  "Girls," 
says  he,  "just  look  at  your  mother ;  see 
her  blush.  Ain't  she  handsome  now? 
Girls,  listen  to  me:  Try  to  avoid  bein' 
as  over  modest  an'  humble  as  your  mother 
is.  If  you  don't,  you'll  not  get  far  in  the 
125 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

world."     Then  he  took  Bobby  up  where 
he'd  temporarily  abandoned  him. 

Bobby,"  says  he,  "  I  believe  you  have 
a  genuinely  good  heart,  and  no  matter 
what  anyone  says  they  can't  make  me  be 
lieve  to  the  contrary.  You  will  now  stop 
to  think,  and  when  you  see  your  mother 
make  a  motion  for  wood,  you  just  jump, 
Bobby,  and  have  an  armful  beside  the 
stove  in  a  jiffy.  And  the  same  with 
your  delicate  sisters,  who  are  just  blos- 
somin'  out  like  young  cherry  trees — grab 
the  water  pail  from  their  hands  an*  fly  to 
the  pump. 

"  It  would  have  been  the  makin'  of 
me,  Bobby,  if  I'd  been  brought  up  with 
three  such  lovely  girls  as  these.  I 
wouldn't  have  been  half  as  selfish  as  I  am. 
So  promise  me,  Bobby,  that  you  won't  do 
it  again." 

"  I'll  promise  anything,"  says  Bobby. 

"  You   hear  that,  Mrs.   Bheel  ?  "  says 
Wess.     "  Bobby    promises   to    be   good. 
Now  I  want  you  to  forgive  him." 
126 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

"  I  do  forgive  him,"  says  Mrs.  Bheel. 
"  Bobby's  a  mighty  good  boy,  and  I  do 
love  him." 

"  Do  you  forgive  your  only  brother, 
girls? "  says  Wess. 

"  We  ain't  got  nothin'  agin  him,"  they 
said  in  one  voice. 

"  Now,  you  see,  Bobby,"  says  Wess, 
"  I've  fixed  you  out  all  right,  an'  you  can 
start  fresh.  Always  remember  I'm  your 
friend,  Bobby." 

And  so  it  went  on.  I  could  hear  Jimmy 
turnin'  nervously  every  now  an'  then,  and 
swearin'  softly  to  himself.  I  didn't  be 
lieve  I'd  ever  get  to  sleep,  for  the  moment 
I'd  make  up  my  mind  that  the  conversa 
tion  down  stairs  was  over  an'  compose 
myself  for  slumber,  that  moment  would 
bring  the  soft,  insinuatin'  voice  of  John 
Wesley  Cuff  up  through  the  cracks,  and 
I  was  forced  to  listen  to  a  new  line  of 
argument.  Before  midnight  he  had  the 
old  man  worked  up  to  the  point  of  apply- 
in'  for  a  divorce  from  his  wife.  This  he 
127 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

smoothed  down  in  a  few  minutes.  He  had 
Minnie  bitterly  jealous  of  Ellen,  and 
Mamie  hatin'  every  other  member  of  the 
family  who  was  said  to  be  keepin'  this 
wild  rose  down. 

Bobby  was  mauled  in  harrowin'  style, 
and  once  when  his  father  raised  a  stick  of 
stove  wood  to  throw  at  his  son,  Wess 
calmed  the  storm,  and  in  a  minute  more 
father  an'  son  was  on  the  best  of  terms. 

I  haven't  exaggerated  a  single  point. 
Wess's  power  was  wonderful.  The  last 
thing  I  remember,  he  had  the  girls  tellin' 
him  just  what  they'd  do  if  they  had  a 
hundred  dollars  each  to  spend  as  they 
liked. 

In  the  mornin'  Wess  kissed  all  the 
ladies  good-bye  an'  shook  hands  warmly 
with  Bobby  an*  his  father.  Mrs.  Bheel 
told  me  in  strict  confidence,  while  Wess 
was  hitchin'  up,  that  he  was  her  ideal  of  a 
man  ;  that  God  Almighty  may  have  made 
smarter  men  an'  pleasanter  men  to  meet 
than  Wess  Cuff,  but  she'd  never  met  'em. 
128 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

Wess  gave  each  of  the  girls  a  brightly- 
polished  brass  ring,  and  to  Bobby  he  gave 
an  equally  attractive  jewsharp. 

If  they'd  been  Pagan-bred,  the  Bheels 
would  have  made  a  god  to  represent  John 
Wesley  Cuff  an'  worshipped  it  with  heart 
felt  adoration. 

On  our  return  with  the  deer,  we  only 
stopped  at  the  Bheels  to  warm.  Wess 
improved  this  opportunity  by  invitin'  the 
whole  family  to  come  an'  stay  with  him 
any  time  they  happened  in  town.  Neither 
the  girls  or  Bobby  had  ever  seen  the  cars, 
and  Mrs.  Bheel  had  only  heard  them  at  a 
distance.  So  they  listened  eagerly  while 
Wess  dilated  on  the  sights  of  the  town. 

When  we  got  under  way  again,  Jimmy 
O'Shay  turned  to  Wess  an'  said : — 

"  Wess  Cuff,  you're  the  low  downdest, 
meanest  cuss  I  ever  see — leadin'  them 
poor,  foolish  people  on  to  thinkin'  that 
they  really  'mount  to  somethin'  in  the 
world.  What  good  does  it  do  you,  man, 
to  lie  an'  deceive  so  ? " 
129 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"Why,  Jimmy,  it  ain't  lyin'  an'  de 
ceit,"  says  Wess.  "  I  was  jest  jollyin'  'em 
along,  you  know.  You  ain't  got  no  fun 
in  you,  Jimmy — not  a  blame  bit.  Why, 
the  other  night,  when  I  had  'em  all  lovin' 
one  another  one  minute  an'  ready  to  fight 
the  next,  I  don't  believe  I  ever  had  a  bet 
ter  time.  It  was  better'n  any  show  I  was 
ever  to." 

About  five  miles  the  other  side  of 
Cloyne,  Wess  claimed  he  was  feelin'  faint, 
and  pulled  up  before  a  rather  respectable, 
small  frame  farmhouse,  statin'  that  he  was 
goin'  to  ask  for  a  glass  of  milk.  Both 
me  an'  Jimmy  O'Shay  felt  that  a  few 
minutes'  warmin'  wouldn't  do  us  any 
harm ;  so  we  tied  the  horses  an'  marched 
to  the  house  in  a  body. 

The  farmer  was  away,  but  his  wife  was 
at  home,  and  she  proved  mighty  hospit 
able,  givin'  us  all  the  milk  we  wanted  an' 
apologizin'  for  not  bein'  able  to  entertain 
us  better.  She  was  a  young,  fine-lookin' 
woman  of  about  thirty,  plump  as  a  part- 
130 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

ridge  an'  very  sociable.  As  we  sat  by  the 
stove,  warmin',  Wess  as  usual  kept  up  a 
lively  conversation  with  her,  and  discov 
ered  her  weakest  point  to  be  a  passionate 
love  for  jewelry. 

Now,  Wess  never  went  anywhere  with 
out  his  pockets  full  of  cheap  chains  an' 
rings,  which  he  was  accustomed  to  work 
off  on  the  rustics,  much  to  the  disgust  of 
that  honest  Irishman — Jimmy  O'Shay. 

He  produced  from  his  vest  pocket  a 
small  chamois  bag,  from  which  he  took  a 
long,  glitterin',  ladies'  watch-chain,  and 
fondled  it  lovin'ly  in  his  hand. 

"  Your  speakin'  of  jewelry,  ma'am,  re 
minded  me  of  this  lovely  chain,"  he  says, 
smilin'  at  the  woman. 

She  eyed  the  chain  covetously. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  brought  so  expensive 
a  chain  as  this  with  me,"  says  Wess, 
seriously.  "  But  I  daren't  leave  it  at  home 
for  fear  of  its  bein'  stolen  while  I  was  away." 

"  Did  you  buy  it  for  your  wife  ?  "  says 
the  woman. 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  says  Wess.  "  She  has 
one  now, — not  so  good  a  chain,  of  course, 
but  one  that  fills  the  bill  all  right.  She 
wanted  this  chain  an'  begged  like  a  baby 
for  it,  but  I  really  couldn't  afford  the 
pleasure  of  givin'  it  to  her.  I  got  it  fairly 
cheap,  however,  from  a  drummer.  Where 
he  got  it,  I  don't  know  an'  didn't  inquire. 
He  was  hard  up, — I  guess  he'd  been 
playin'  the  game  an'  had  to  part  with  it. 
Now,  how  much  d'ye  think  this  chain 
might  be  worth,  ma'am  ?  " 

Wess  stretched  the  chain  from  one  hand 
to  the  other  an'  then  dangled  it  before 
the  woman's  eyes.  She  made  a  motion  to 
take  it,  but  he  evidently  had  no  intention 
of  grantin'  her  the  pleasure  of  fondlin'  it. 

"  It  might  have  cost  ten  dollars,"  says 
she. 

"  Why,  lady  !  "  cries  Wess  in  an  injured 
tone.  "  You  don't  really  mean  that !  Look 
at  this  beautiful  chain  again.  See  how  the 
links  are  all  double  locked.  I  thought 
you  could  guess  better  than  that." 
132 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

"Well,  I  ain't  much  of  a  judge  of 
price,"  says  the  woman,  much  abashed,  as 
she  saw  she'd  hurt  his  feelin's  in  puttin' 
the  price  so  low.  "We  don't  see  such 
lovely  things  back  here  very  often,"  she 
says.  "I  know  it's  a  beautiful  chain, and 
must  have  cost  a  lot  of  money, — may  be 
twenty-five  dollars." 

"That's  better,"  says  Wess,  "and  if 
you'd  just  make  a  little  sum  by  settin' 
twenty-five  down  on  the  slate,  puttin'  two 
under  it  an'  sayin  *  twice  five  is  ten — 
ought  an'  carry  one — twice  two  is  four  an* 
one  to  carry  makes  five,'  you'd  have  fifty 
dollars  ;  and  that's  about  what  the  chain 
cost  originally,  though  I  will  own  I  didn't 
pay  quite  that  for  it." 

I  heard  Jimmy  swearin'  softly  into  the 
damper.  Jimmy  was  a  terrible  polite  man 
before  women. 

"  Why,  I  never  had  as  much  as  fifty 
dollars  in  my  life,"  says  the  woman. 

"  It's  a  big  sum,"  says  Wess,  and  he 
started  to  put  away  the  chain. 

'33 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"Won't  you  let  me  hold  it  in  my 
hands  ?  "  says  the  woman. 

Wess  looked  at  her  an'  then  enveloped 
her  in  his  wonderful  smile,  all  the  features 
joinin'  in. 

"Just  like  a  child,"  he  says.  "I 
always  did  say  women  is  jest  like  children. 
Can't  see  a  thing  but  they  must  have  their 
hands  on  it."  Then  he  lightly  tossed  the 
chain  about  the  woman's  neck. 

She  blushed  red  an*  dangled  the  part 
that  hung  down. 

"  Oh,  it's  so  lovely  !  "  says  she. 

Wess  gazed  at  her,  then  at  the  chain, 
smilin'  all  the  while,  and  presently  the 
question  came  that  he  waited  for. 

"  What's  the  very  least  you'd  take  for 
it?  "  says  she. 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  too  expensive  for  you," 
says  he. 

"  I  might  afford  it,"  says  she,  "  and 
John  would  buy  it,  I  know,  if  he  was 
here.  John  gets  me  everything  I  want." 

"Have  you  got  forty  dollars?"  says 

134 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

Wess, — (you  must  remember  the  chain 
was  worth  probably  seventy-five  cents. ) 

"  No,  I  haven't  any  money,"  says  she, 
"  but  I've  got  a  cow." 

"  Well,  we'll  start  with  the  cow,"  says 
Wess.  "  Put  the  cow  down  for  twenty 
dollars,"  says  he.  "  It's  a  big  price,  but 
seem'  you  want  the  chain  so  badly  I'm 
inclined  to  be  liberal." 

"Then  I've  got  a  dozen  geese,"  says 
she,  smilin'  silly  like. 

"Twelve  geese  at  seventy-five  cents 
each, — say  a  dollar,"  says  he.  "  That 
makes  twelve  dollars.  Twenty  an'  twelve 
is  thirty- two.  Come  again,"  says  he. 

"  I  ain't  got  nothin'  more  but  a  shoat," 
says  she,  "  and  John  wouldn't  want  to 
part  with  the  shoat." 

"  One  shoat,  five  dollars,"  says  Wess. 
"Thirty -two  an'  five  is  thirty- seven. 
Three  dollars  shy;  but  I'm  generous. 
Give  me  the  cow,  the  twelve  geese  an'  the 
shoat,  and  the  chain  is  yours." 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't  part  with  the  shoat," 

135 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

says  she,  very  sad.  "I  couldn't  part  with 
the  shoat,"  says  she.  "  It's  John's  shoat 
an'  he  wants  to  winter  it." 

"  Well,  I'm  afraid  we  can't  trade,  then," 
says  Wess,  the  smile  dyin'  out  of  his  face 
as  he  reached  his  hand  for  the  chain. 

The  woman  slowly  took  the  chain  from 
about  her  neck,  as  if  it  was  tearin*  her 
heart  strings  to  do  so. 

"  I  jest  dasn't  part  with  the  shoat," 
says  she,  still  holdin'  the  chain. 

Wess  still  held  out  his  hand. 

"  You  couldn't  think  of  lettin'  me  keep 
the  shoat  ?  "  says  she. 

"  Not  possibly,"  says  Wess. 

She  dropped  the  chain  reluctantly  into 
his  hand. 

"  John  would  be  mad  if  I  let  the  shoat 
go,"  says  she.  "  I  couldn't  do  it.  He'd 
grieve  about  it." 

We  thanked  the  woman  for  her  hospi 
tality.  Jimmy  gave  her  a  quarter,  and  I 
slipped  another  quarter  into  the  hand 
which  had  so  lovin'ly  toyed  with  Wess's 
136 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

brass  chain.  Not  a  word  was  spoken 
until  we  was  a  mile  or  so  from  the  house. 
Then  Jimmy  began  to  melt  the  icicles 
clustered  on  his  gray  mustache  with  a 
torrid  stream  of  red-hot  cuss  words. 

"  Wess  Cuff,"  says  he,  "  you've  driven 
me  for  the  last  time.  You're  a  dangerous 
man  to  be  with,"  says  he,  "and  you  an'  I 
part  after  this  trip.  You  contemptible 
scoundrel ! — tryin'  to  sell  a  poor  lone 
woman  a  cheap  brass  chain  for  her  only 
cow,  her  feather-bed  geese  and  her  hus 
band's  shoat !  You  scoundrel !  "  says  he. 

Wess  only  laughed,  and  chirped  to  the 
horses. 

"A  cow,  twelve  geese  an'  a  shoat,"  says 
Jimmy  indignantly.  "  You  villain  !  " 

Wess  never  said  a  word ;  only  kept  a 
chucklin'  to  himself. 

There  was  silence  for  p'raps  five  min 
utes,  and  then  Jimmy  began  to  splutter 
again.  He  evidently  was  worryin'  over 
somethin',  because  he  kept  repeatin'  the 
items  of  the  proposition. 

137 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  Tell  me,  Wess  Cuff,  you  scoundrel !  " 
says  he,  "what  made  you  stick  out  for 
the  shoat?" 

Wess  continued  to  chuckle,  but  didn't 
reply. 

"  The  shoat  couldn't  have  been  worth 
more'n  two  dollars,"  says  Jimmy.  "  Why 
in  thunderation  did  you  balk  at  the 
shoat?" 

"Jimmy,"  says  Wess  in  splendid  good 
nature, — "  Jimmy,"  he  says,  "  you're  a 
fine  feller,  and  you're  a  mighty  good 
shot  with  a  rifle ;  you're  a  blame  good 
feller,  Jimmy,  but  you  ain't  got  as  much 
sense  of  humor  as  one  of  your  hound 
pups.  Your  brains  has  all  run  to  seed, 
Jimmy ;  you're  growin'  as  blind  as  a  bat 
in  your  mind  an'  you  can't  see  through  a 
wire  fence." 

"  Oh,  yes ! — go  on  an'  abuse  me,"  says 
Jimmy,  but  much  more  meekly,  for  he 
felt  that  Wess  had  somethin'  up  his  sleeve. 
"  Go  on  an'  abuse  me,"  he  says,  "  but 
first  tell  me  one  thing — why  you  stuck  on 

138 


ELOQUENCE  OF  J.  W.  CUFF 

the  shoat?"  The  repeated  question  sent 
Wess  into  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"  Oh  my  trousies  ! "  says  he,  "  but 
Jimmy's  goin'  into  mental  decline  !  Do 
somethin'  for  it,  Jimmy,"  he  says,  "  or  I 
see  the  asylum  before  you  !  " 

"  Didn't  you  really  mean  to  trade  after 
all  ? "  says  Jimmy,  quite  humble  now, 
"  and  was  you  just  stickin'  out  for  the 
shoat  as  a  bluff?  "  says  he. 

Wess  winked  at  me. 

"Jimmy's  beginnin'  to  think,"  says  he. 
"Jimmy's  beginnin'  to  reason." 

"  But  tell  me  !  "  says  Jimmy,  angrily. 

"  You  tell  me  first,"  says  Wess,  "  how 
much  you  give  the  woman  for  entertainin' 
you?" 

"  I  give  her  a  quarter,"  says  Jimmy, 
proudly. 

"Well,  I  give  her  the  chain,"  says 
Wess,  and  then  he  laughed  louder'n  ever, 
while  Jimmy  sunk  into  his  fur  coat  an' 
never  opened  his  mouth  till  we  reached 
home. 

139 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

He  did.  He  give  her  the  chain  when 
we  wasn't  lookin'.  I  never  knew  a 
more  remarkable  man  than  John  Wesley 
Cuff. 


The  Tale  of  a  Strange  Bed 

The  man  who  hustles  for  a  livin'  finds 
himself  in  many  peculiar  situations  an' 
memorable  sleepin'  places. 

I  believe  I've  slept  on  every  kind  of 
bed  imaginable,  from  the  bare  earth  to  a 
hair  mattress.  I've  slept  in  spare  beds 
an'  contracted  rheumatism  ;  in  straw  beds, 
which  left  their  mark  on  me  for  days ;  in 
feather  beds,  that  gave  me  the  asthma, 
and  in  beds  so  hard  that  I'd  bruise  myself 
every  time  I'd  turn  over. 

But  the  wildest  night  I  ever  passed  was 
in  the  bunk  of  a  farmer's  cabin,  one  hot 
moonlight  night  in  August,  when  I  was 
on  a  collectin'  trip  for  the  firm. 

There  was  a  country  store  that  failed, 
owin'  us  a  lot  of  money.  In  the  distri 
bution  of  assets,  a  small  farm  fell  to  our 
141 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

share,  and  the  old  man  said  to  me  one 
day: — 

"  George,"  he  said,  "  I  want  you  to 
take  a  run  out  in  the  country  an'  look  up 
that  farm,  for  I  don't  know  whether  it's 
worth  the  taxes  or  not." 

I  found  the  neighborhood  all  right,  but 
I'm  hanged  if  I  could  find  the  farm.  No 
body  seemed  to  know  anything  about  it, 
and  the  section  was  so  thinly  settled  that 
there  wasn't  many  people  to  ask. 

Well,  I  drove  around  all  day,  inquirin' 
here  an'  there,  wherever  I  found  a  cabin, 
but,  as  I  said,  without  success.  Sunset 
found  me  far  from  the  nearest  village  an'  in 
a  mighty  poor  humor ;  but  I  was  used  to 
hard  luck  an'  mean  jobs  in  them  days, 
and  was  accustomed  to  make  the  best  of 
bad  bargains. 

I'd  travelled  for  fully  half  an  hour  with 
out  sightin'  a  human  bein',  so  when  I 
come  out  of  a  pine  grove  full  on  a  log 
shanty,  I  swear  the  cabin  looked  handsome 
to  me. 

142 


TALE  OF  A  STRANGE  BED 

I  pulled  up  before  the  door  an'  halloed. 

A  man  stepped  to  the  entrance,  wipin' 
his  face  with  a  towel. 

"Hello!"  says  I. 

•<  Hello  !  "  says  he. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  where  I  am  ?  "  says  I. 

"  You're  on  the  Gore  road,  six  miles 
from  Aiken  an'  p'inted  due  east,"  says  he. 

"  Thank  you,"  says  I.  "  I  didn't  know 
but  the  bad  place  was  somewhere's  here 
around,  and  I'd  a  notion  of  puttin'  up 
there  for  the  night." 

"It's  hot  enough  'most  anywhere  else 
to-night,"  says  he.  "  But  if  you  ain't  too 
particular  you  might  come  in  an'  have 
supper  with  us — we  was  just  settin'  down 
— for  they  tell  me  the  c  Old  Boy '  ain't  a 
particular  good  provider,"  and  the  man 
grinned.  He'd  certain  a  vein  of  humor 
in  him. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Willoughby 
farm  ?  "  says  I. 

"  I  have,"  says  he. 

My  spirits  rose  at  once. 

H3 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"You're  the  man  I've  been  lookin'  for 
all  day,"  says  I.  "They  told  me  there 
was  just  one  man  in  the  county  that  knew 
that  the  world  was  round,  and  I  thank 
God  I've  found  him." 

The  man  still  stood  in  the  door,  mop- 
pin'  his  face  an'  grinnin'. 

"  Where  is  this  farm  ?  "  says  I. 

"That's  a  long  story,"  says  he,  "  for  it's 
what  I  call  a  lost  farm,  and  will  take  a 
land  surveyor  to  find  it,  bein'  situated  on 
the  Gore  between  the  seventh  an'  eighth 
concessions." 

"  Could  you  point  it  out  ?  "  says  I. 

"  I  could  show  you  a  part  of  it,"  says 
he. 

"Then,"  says  I,  jumpin'  from  the 
buggy,  "  you're  my  man ;  and  if  you  can 
put  me  up  for  the  night,  we  could  look 
up  the  farm  in  the  mornin'." 

The  man   helped  me  unhitch,  and  we 

soon   had  the   horse  put  up.     Then  we 

went  into  the  house.     It  was  a  log  cabin 

of  only  one  room,  and  about  as  primitive 

144 


TALE  OF  A  STRANGE  BED 

an  affair  as  you'd  find  in  a  year's  travel. 

The  man's  wife  was  inside  gettin'  sup 
per.  I  remember  the  meal  was  rhubarb 
sauce  an'  bread  an'  butter,  chiefly — a 
mighty  poor  meal ;  and  I  wondered  that 
such  a  clever-talkin'  man  would  be  con 
tent  with  such  poverty. 

After  supper  me  an'  him  went  outside 
and  seated  ourselves  on  a  bench  to  have 
a  smoke,  while  the  woman  washed  up  the 
things. 

"  How  in  the  world,"  says  I  to  him, 
"  do  you  come  to  be  back  here  in  this  God 
forsaken  place  ?  " 

The  man  took  his  pipe  from  between 
his  teeth  an'  looked  cautiously  toward  the 
cabin  door.  Seein'  that  his  wife  was 
busily  engaged,  he  turned  to  me  an' 
said : — 

"  I  don't  wonder  that  you  ask  me,  but 
the  reason  I'm  here  is  very  simple.  She 
an'  me  is  happier  here  than  in  any  other 
place  in  the  world." 

"What's  the  story?"  says  I. 

H5 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

He  looked  at  me  keenly.  "You're  a 
total  stranger  in  these  parts,  be  you  ?  " 
says  he. 

"  Never  was  here  before  an'  never  will 
be  again,"  says  I. 

"  Then  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you,"  says 
he,  "  for  God  knows  it  does  my  heart 
good  to  talk  with  a  townsman  once  again." 

"  You're  a  city  man  born,  then  ? "  says  I. 

"  Aye,"  says  he.  "  I  was  born  in  the 
biggest  city  this  side  'o  London." 

"New  York?"  says  I. 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  "  in  New  York.  I 
was  born  an'  raised  in  New  York.  Damn 
it  forever  an'  ever,  amen !  " 

He  said  this  reverently,  raisin'  his  eyes 
to  the  sky,  which  was  sparklin'  bright 
with  stars. 

"You  ain't  stuck  on  the  city,  I  would 
judge? "  says  I. 

"  I  don't  want  to  ever  see  a  city  again," 
says  he. 

He  sat  for  some  minutes  meditatin', 
and  I  see  there  was  a  mighty  interestin' 
146 


TALE  OF  A  STRANGE  BED 

story    at    the    tip    of    his  tongue,   but   I 
thought  best  not  to  urge  him. 

"  You  see  that  full  moon  comin'  up 
over  the  trees  ?  "  he  says  after  a  bit, — 
"rollin'  up,  rollin'  up, — big  as  a  house 
a-fire  ?  She's  careenin'  up  just  like  that 
out  of  the  sea  an'  crawlin'  over  the  tall 
buildin's  in  New  York  this  very  minute. 
What  does  she  see  here  ?  Fields  of 
stumps  an'  stones,  a  big  forest,  and  right 
here  a  little  log  cabin.  What  kind  of 
people  does  she  see  ?  A  man  as  loves  his 
wife  better'n  his  immortal  soul,  and  a 
woman  who'd  go  to  hell  for  her  husband 
any  day.  I  ain't  speakin'  of  you,  of 
course.  She  sees  us  here,  earnin'  our 
livin'  by  the  hardest  kind  of  hard  work, 
but  honest  an'  happy. 

"What  does  she  see  in  New  York? — 
the  part  where  I  was  born  an'  bred  ? 
Misery  an'  woe ;  vice  that  you  dasn't 
mention ;  human  sewage;  beer  guzzlin'; 
foul-talkin*  men,  women  an'  children. 

"  I   was   born  in  a  room  over  a  rum- 

147 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

shop.  In  a  city  of  schools  I  never  had  a 
day's  schoolin'.  I  was  taught  to  steal  an' 
to  lie.  My  father  I  never  knew.  My 
mother  give  me  to  a  Jew  woman  an' 
run  away — God  knows  where.  I  sold 
papers  ;  I  blacked  boots  ;  I  stole  on  sight. 
I  was  four  times  on  the  Island  before  I 
was  eighteen. 

"  She," — noddin'  toward  the  cabin — 
"  come  up  with  me,  side  by  side.  She 
was  also  a  nameless  kid.  We  fed  to 
gether  as  children  on  doorsteps  an'  slept 
together  in  odds  an'  ends  of  corners.  She 
sold  papers,  too,  and  scrubbed  out  saloons 
at  odd  times.  Whenever  I  come  from 
the  Island  she  was  sure  to  be  on  the 
wharf  to  meet  me ;  and  we  loved  each 
other  as  no  two  kids  ever  loved  before 
outside  the  story  books.  At  least  I  think 
so.  Well,  the  last  time  I  come  out — I  was 
always  sent  up  for  swipin'  somethin'  or 
other, — she  met  me  as  usual  an'  says  to 
me: — f  Jimmy,'  she  says,  *  we're  goin' 
away.'  f  Where  ?'  says  I.  '  To  the  place 
148 


TALE  OF  A  STRANGE  BED 

where  there  ain't  nobody  at  all,'  says  she. 
c  Come  along,'  says  she. 

"An'  we  went.  Due  north  we  went, 
as  ragged  a  pair  of  tramps  as  ever  you 
see.  We  both  spent  the  winter  in  jail  as 
vagrants,  but  in  the  spring  we  started 
again,  and  kept  due  north  till  we  crossed 
the  St.  Lawrence  an'  come  into  Canada. 
We  thought  sure  there  would  be  nobody 
in  Canada,  but  there  was.  So  we  kept 
pushin'  back  till  we  come  to  this  identical 
spot,  on  a  Gore  road,  between  townships, 
and  right  at  the  edge  of  this  pine  grove 
we  settled  down. 

"  We  didn't  know  who  owned  the  land, 
and  ain't  positive  now,  but  we  guessed  it 
must  be  county  land  taken  for  taxes.  We 
had  seventeen  dollars  that  we'd  begged  an* 
hung  on  to,  and  with  this  we  got  together 
enough  to  make  a  start.  Then  we  built 
this  cabin,  log  by  log,  and  when  it  was 
done  we  spruced  up  the  best  we  could  an' 
went  over  to  the  village  an'  got  married, 
for  before  we'd  always  lived  like  brother 

149 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

an'  sister.  I  give  the  min'ster  a  dollar, 
but  he  handed  it  back  to  me.  He  was  a 
decent  kind  of  feller. 

"  No,  I  s'pose  you  never  heard  of  a 
poorer  couple  than  we  be.  We've  been 
years  here,  and  we've  worked  like  beavers, 
but  you  see,  the  land's  so  terrible  poor 
an'  thin  that  the  yield  is  small.  But  we've 
enough  to  eat  an'  drink,  and  the  clothes 
we  need  is  of  the  commonest  kind,  for  we 
never  go  beyond  the  limits  of  this  clearin' 
'cept  now  an'  then  to  the  store.  We're 
just  as  happy,  however,  as  the  day  is 
long,  and  no  money  would  tempt  me  to 
leave  this  spot. 

"  If  I  was  worth  a  million  to-day,  I'd 
build  me  a  better  house  an'  get  some 
farmin'  tools  which  I  actually  need,  and 
then  I'd  found  a  home  for  orphans.  Me 
an'  Maggie  often  talk  it  over;  we've  had 
our  fill  of  the  city.  We're  quite  religious, 
too.  Maggie  can  read  real  well,  and  Sun 
days  she  reads  to  me  from  the  Bible,  and 
between  us  we've  fixed  up  a  religion  to 
150 


TALE  OF  A  STRANGE  BED 

suit  our  case.  It's  founded  on  one  verse, 
— *  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they 
shall  see  God.'  " 

Now  wasn't  that  a  funny  story  to  hear 
away  back  there  in  the  woods !  It's  a 
caution  what  odd  people  there  are  in  the 
world. 

When  it  come  bed-time  I  begun  to 
wonder  where  they  was  goin'  to  put  me 
up,  for  there  seemed  to  be  only  one  room. 
But  this  difficulty  was  overcome  by  the 
woman,  who  fixed  up  a  screen  of  grain 
bags  before  her  bunk.  My  bed  was  made 
up  on  the  floor. 

The  man  an'  I  stayed  outside  till  she  got 
to  bed ;  then  we  turned  in  for  the  night. 
The  strange  story  he'd  told  me  kept  me 
awake  thinkin'  it  over,  and  the  moonlight 
shone  in  through  the  winder  directly  on 
my  face ;  so  it  was  pretty  hard  to  drop  off 
to  sleep.  I  did  drop  into  a  doze  after  a 
bit,  however,  but  I  was  awakened  by  a 
desire  to  scratch.  I  seemed  literally  cov 
ered  with  fleas.  Now,  one  flea  is  enough 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

to  make  an  ordinary  man  wild,  but  when 
it  comes  to  seventy-five  hundred  million 
pesky  fleas  dancin'  over  your  helpless 
body,  and  every  now  an'  then  stoppin'  to 
take  a  nip — well,  no  words  can  describe  it. 

I  sat  up  an'  looked  about.  Sweet  slum 
ber  held  the  waifs  of  New  York,  as  their 
harmonious  snorin'  denoted.  The  moon 
light  filled  the  room.  Outside  I  could 
hear  the  soft  summer  wind  purring  through 
the  pines. 

"  There's  the  place  for  me,"  I  says  to 
myself,  and  tiptoed  noiselessly  to  the 
door.  My  gosh !  how  the  fleas  bit ! 
Once  outside  the  house  I  tore  off  my 
shirt,  and  turnin'  it  inside  out,  slapped  it 
against  the  corner  of  the  cabin,  in  hopes 
of  dislodgin'  a  few  of  my  tormenters. 
Just  then  I  heard  a  gruesome  "  whoop ! 
whoop  !  "  and  turnin',  saw  two  long-eared 
deer  hounds  puttin'  for  me  from  the 
direction  of  the  barn. 

Say  !  it  didn't  take  me  long  to  get  round 
the  corner  of  that  shanty.  But  the  hounds 
152 


TALE  OF  A  STRANGE  BED 

was  on  my  trail.  I  hoped  to  reach  the 
door  before  them,  but  the  pace  was  too 
hot  for  me  when  I  got  'round  front,  for 
had  I  paused  a  moment,  they'd  have  been 
upon  me.  So  I  grabbed  my  shirt  tight 
an'  dug  in  my  toes  as  I  reached  a  corner. 

"  Whoop  !  whoop  !  "  the  hounds  come 
on.  I  could  turn  quicker'n  they,  and  I 
gained  slightly.  The  woodyard  was  just 
at  the  rear  of  the  cabin,  and  as  I  sailed 
round  this  side,  my  poor  feet  suffered 
from  the  sharp  chips.  The  hounds  seemed 
in  fine  fettle  an'  come  on  bravely,  every 
second  breath  lettin'  out  a  whoop  !  whoop  ! 
that  'ud  lift  the  hair  of  a  stuffed  cat. 

My  breath  was  givin'  out  an'  I  felt  that 
"  dog  meat "  was  to  be  my  fate.  The 
hounds  grew  cunnin',  and  twisted  them 
selves  'round  the  corners  like  a  band-saw. 
Say !  I  must  have  been  goin'  a  mile  a 
minute  'bout  that  time.  I  never'll  have 
any  great  respect  for  the  speed  of  deer 
hounds  again.  But  they  can  holler.  Law 
me  !  it's  the  most  terrible  sound  you  ever 

1S3 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

heard,  and  think  of  two  of  'em  right  at 
your  heels  an'  you  naked  as  the  day  you 
was  born  !  Gosh  !  it  gives  me  the  shivers 
even  now  ! 

Well,  as  I  flew  'round  that  shanty  for 
the  hundred  an'  fortieth  time,  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  two  white-robed  people  standin' 
in  the  door  an'  heard  'em  holler  at  the 
hounds  as  I  passed.  The  door  was  open 
behind  'em.  When  I  come  'round  again  I 
swung  out  slightly  so's  to  make  a  good 
turn,  and  dashed  into  the  cabin  with  the 
yell  of  a  wild  Injun. 

I  had  the  sheet  ofF  the  bed  and  around 
me  before  the  woman  had  picked  herself 
up,  for  I'd  keeled  her  over  as  I  entered. 
I  don't  believe  that  couple  ever  had  as 
good  a  laugh  in  their  lives  as  they  had 
then,  and  them  two  dum  hounds  stood 
waggin'  their  tails  in  the  doorway. 

But  it  was  no  laughin'  matter  for  me. 
My  feet  was  all  cut  up  an'  bled  like  every 
thing.  Seein'  my  condition,  they  stopped 
laughin'  for  a  minute  or  so  an'  bathed 

'54 


TALE  OF  A  STRANGE  BED 

my  feet.  But  even  as  they  was  bindin' 
up  my  sores  I  could  hear  'em  sniggle  to 
'emselves. 

There  was  no  more  sleep  that  night, 
and  strangest  of  all — no  more  fleas — nary 
a  flea.  I  must  have  scart  'em  out  of  the 
cabin.  We  sat  there  in  the  moonlight 
an'  talked  religion  till  the  sun  come  up. 
You  never  heard  such  talk  as  that  man 
and  woman  put  up.  Hang  it !  I  some 
times  think  they  had  it  about  right,  for 
what  they  did  believe  in  was  the  Simon 
pure  article. 

Now,  where  do  you  think  I  found  the 
Willoughby  farm  to  be  when  I  looked 
the  next  day  ?  Why,  right  under  my 
feet !  The  couple  had  squatted  on  it. 

"  Be  you  goin'  to  put  us  off? "  says 
they  to  me  with  big  eyes,  when  I  told 
'em  the  facts. 

"  It's  a  lost  farm,"  says  I  in  reply, 
takin'  up  the  reins,  "  and  you've  found  it. 
In  Canada,"  says  I,  "  findin'  is  keepin', 
and  the  farm's  yours  forever  an'  ever." 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Then  I  drove  off,  after  givin'  the 
woman  a  dollar. 

I  told  the  old  man  all  about  it  when  I 
got  back  to  town. 

"  You  did  right,  George,"  he  says, 
"quite  right.  But  see  that  the  farm  is 
deeded  to  them  properly,  so  that  I  won't 
have  to  pay  the  taxes." 

He'd  a  queer  mixture  of  good  an'  bad 
in  him,  had  the  old  man.  He'd  dicker 
up  to  the  very  edge  of  the  pit,  but  you'd 
find  him  at  church  Sunday  mornin'. 


The   Cold  Girl   from   Bald 
Mountain 

One  day  I  got  a  telegram  at  Tamworth 
to  hurry  to  Tweed  to  attend  Division 
Court  there  on  a  case  I  knew  all  about. 

It  was  in  January,  and  cold.  Well, 
cold  ain't  no  name  for  it.  It  was  thirty 
below  if  a  point,  and  I  wrapped  up  for 
the  occasion.  I  had  one  of  them  old- 
fashioned  Scotch  shawls — about  twenty 
feet  long  an'  four  wide,  you  know ;  lots 
of  people  had  'em  them  days,  and  this 
shawl  I  wrapped  'round  my  shoulders  an' 
body  over  my  ulster,  so  that  the  cold 
didn't  have  much  chance  to  get  at  me.  I 
wore  a  warm  pair  of  woolen  gloves,  and 
over  them  a  heavy  pair  of  fur  gloves  with 
big  gauntlets,  but  even  then  my  hands 
would  grow  numb  if  I  didn't  keep 

157 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

poundin'  'em  on  my  knees.  I  had  a  rat- 
tlin'  good  horse  for  a  long,  fast  trip ;  as 
tough  a  beast  an'  as  brave-hearted  as  ever 
drew  a  cutter  out  of  a  pitch-hole  without 
stickin'  his  heels  through  the  dasher. 

But  he  had  one  fault :  He  interfered 
bad,  and  whenever  he  struck,  it  evident 
ly  hurt  the  poor  cuss,  for  he'd  go  off 
on  three  legs  for  a  spell  like  a  dog.  It 
used  to  make  me  awful  mad,  for  he'd  be 
sure  to  make  an  exhibition  of  himself 
just  when  we  was  enterin'  a  village,  and  I 
was  sensitive  about  my  rigs  always.  Pads 
or  nothin'  'ud  do  him  any  good,  until  I 
hit  upon  the  plan  of  givin'  him  one  hard 
swipe  with  the  whip  along  the  back  the 
moment  he  struck.  This  did  all  very  well 
for  a  time,  and  then  a  worse  evil  resulted. 
He  come  to  know  that  a  swipe  of  the 
whip  follered  each  strike,  and  to  avoid 
this,  the  moment  his  heels  knocked  to 
gether  he'd  dart  into  the  air  like  a  cannon 
ball  an'  run  for  all  he  was  worth,  until  he 
felt  certain  the  whip  had  been  forgotten. 
158 


THE  COLD  GIRL 

He  was  a  good,  game  horse,  but  he  did 
have  his  faults. 

Well,  this  day  I  left  Tamworth  in  the 
early  mornin'  an'  started  due  north  for 
Tweed.  The  sun  shone  round  an'  yellow 
as  a  gold  dollar,  and  with  no  more  warmth 
in  it  than  a  pancake  three  days  old.  The 
snow  was  very  deep  an'  the  road  full  of 
pitch-holes,  so  it  kept  me  well  shaken  up. 

About  two  miles  this  side  of  a  little 
Irish  village  I  come  upon  a  girl  walkin' 
in  the  same  direction  I  was  goin'.  She 
stepped  out  into  the  snow  to  let  me  pass, 
but  I  hauled  up,  and  throwin'  down  the 
buffalo  robe,  said  curtly : — 

"Jump  in  if  you  want  a  ride." 

She  wasn't  slow  in  complyin',  and  I 
drove  on  without  another  word.  I  had 
my  face  wound  'round  with  a  muffler,  so 
that  I  could  only  see  straight  ahead,  and 
I  didn't  feel  much  like  talkin'. 

When  we'd  left  the  village  behind  us,  I 
asked  her  where  she  was  goin'.  She  named 
a  settlement  some  ten  miles  further  along. 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  Where've  you  come  from  ? "  I  asked 
again. 

"  From  the  Bald  Mountings,"  says  she, 
in  a  low  voice. 

"  Dum  cold  place !  "  says  I. 

"It  is,"  says  she;  "very  cold  at  the 
Mounting." 

"Walked?"  says  I. 

"  Yessir — all  the  way,"  says  she. 

"  Been  workin'  out  ?  "  says  I. 

"  No — goin'  to,"  says  she. 

"  Hard  times  at  the  Mountain  ? "  I 
says. 

"Awful  hard,"  says  she,  and  shivered. 
Then  I  felt  her  shake  all  over.  I  looked 
at  her  in  the  face.  She  wasn't  bad-lookin' 
by  a  jug  full,  but  her  lips  was  blue  an'  her 
teeth  was  chatterin'. 

"  Great  Scott ! '  'says  I,  "  you're  freezin' 
to  death ! " 

"  I  AM  cold,"  says  she. 

I  unwound  the  Scotch  shawl  from  about 
me,  and  biddin'  her  stand  up,  I  wrapped 
that  shawl  about  her  from  her  head  to  her 
1 60 


THE  COLD  GIRL 

knees.  Then  I  gave  her  my  inside  pair 
of  mittens,  and  she  looked  more  comfort 
able. 

I  drove  on  for  a  few  miles  in  silence, 
and  then  inquired  : — 

"  Feelin'  warmer  ?  " 

"  Fine  an'  warm  now,"  says  she. 

I  could  see  her  eyes  glistenin'  above 
the  shawl.  Over  the  hills  we  went,  the 
snow  cracklin'  like  breakin'  glass.  Gosh  ! 
it  was  terrible  cold !  How  that  girl  had 
endured  to  walk  all  the  way  from  Bald 
Mountain  in  a  thin  calico  gown,  with  a 
half-worn  pair  of  mittens  an'  light  boots, 
was  more'n  I  could  tell. 

"  She's  good  grit,"  I  thought,  for  she 
sat  there  beside  me  an'  would  have  frozen 
stiff  before  sayin'  she  was  cold. 

"  They  grow  good  stock  at  the  Bald 
Mountain,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  at  that 
moment  my  horse  struck.  In  a  second 
he  sprung  forward,  crazy  with  pain  an' 
fear.  I  saw  my  companion  fly  back  over 
the  seat  like  a  stone  from  a  catapult.  But 
161 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

I  had  no  time  to  think  of  her  fate,  for  in 
a  moment  more  the  cutter  struck  a  pitch- 
hole  an'  I  found  myself  sprawlin'  in  the 
snow. 

I  quickly  pulled  myself  together  an' 
started  back  to  look  up  my  lady  from 
Bald  Mountain.  I  didn't  worry  about 
the  horse.  He'd  prob'ly  stop  after  he  got 
tired. 

Now,  say  !  I  don't  want  you  to  laugh, 
for  it  really. was  no  laughin'  matter.  Re 
member,  the  girl  was  poor  an'  was  goin' 
to  work  out.  I  did  laugh,  myself,  I  must 
own  ;  but  I  hadn't  oughter. 

You  know,  she  was  all  tied  up  in  that 
shawl,  wound  'round  an'  'round  like  a 
'Gyptian  mummy,  her  arms  close  to  her 
sides. 

Well,  when  she  was  jerked  back 
wards  out  of  the  cutter  she  reversed,  so  to 
speak,  and  come  down  head  on,  right  into 
the  soft,  fleecy  snow,  sinkin'  in  almost  to 
her  knees.  That  was  the  condition  in 
which  I  found  her.  One  foot  hung  down 
162 


THE  COLD  GIRL 

kinder  helpless  like,  but  the  other  stuck 
up  in  the  air  there  like  a  signal  of  distress, 
and  feebly  twisted  about.  Darned  if  it 
wasn't  one  of  the  comicalest  things  you 
ever  see  !  There  she  was — stuck  like  a 
post  in  the  snow,  and  it  didn't  take  me 
many  seconds  to  get  her  out. 

I  just  grabbed  her  'bout  the  legs  an' 
yanked.  She  came  out  kerflop,  but  just 
about  smothered.  She'd  had  on  a  straw 
hat  with  a  narrow  rim  an'  one  red  feather, 
and  now  all  that  was  to  be  seen  of  this 
hat  was  the  rim,  and  this  was  about  her 
neck. 

I  stood  her  up  an'  dug  the  snow  out 
of  her  face  an'  hair.  All  the  time  I  could 
hear  her  mumblin'  behind  the  shawl. 
Then  I  unwound  her,  and  no  sooner  was 
her  arms  free  than  she  grabbed  that  shawl, 
and  slammin'  it  down  in  the  road,  stamped 
on  it,  her  eyes  flashin'. 

"You  villain!"  she  cried.  "You  did 
it  a-purpose !  " 

"  For  the  love  of  Heaven ! "  says  I, 
163 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  be  calm.  What  in  the  world  is  the 
matter  with  you  ?  " 

"  You  did  it  a-purpose  !  "  she  fairly 
yelled  again. 

"  Did  what  a-purpose  ?  "  says  I. 

"  You  villain  !  "  she  snorted.  "  Wrap- 
pin'  me'  round  an'  'round  with  that  shawl 
just  so  I'd  be  throwed  out  an'  make  a 
show  of  myself !  " 

The  joke  of  the  thing  struck  me  all  of 
a  sudden.  She  thought  I'd  deliberately 
upset  her  in  the  snow.  I  laughed  aloud, 
and  this  made  her  so  mad  that  she  fairly 
danced. 

"  Where  is  my  hat  ? "  she  cried — "  where 
is  my  feather  ?  " 

I  pointed  to  the  rim  about  her  neck. 
This  fresh  disaster  made  her  more 
furious. 

"Find  my  feather !  "  she  moaned.  "Find 
my  pretty  feather !  " 

I  crawled  into  the  hole  she  made  in  the 
snow  bank,  and  after  a  bit  rescued  the 
feather.  She  snatched  it  from  my  hand 
164 


THE  COLD  GIRL 

angrily.  I  tried  to  pacify  her,  but  she 
wouldn't  have  it.  She  wouldn't  wear  the 
shawl.  She  threw  my  gloves  at  me,  and 
swore  she'd  freeze,  but  she  would  go  no 
further  with  me. 

I  saw  it  was  no  use,  so  I  picked  up  my 
poor  shawl  and  gloves,  and  like  the  per 
petrator  of  some  great  crime,  slunk  away 
from  offended  innocence.  The  girl  really 
was  a  terrible  fool. 

I  found  my  horse  all  right — about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  ahead — he  havin'  been 
stopped  by  a  wood-sleigh. 

About  two  years  after  that  I  happened 
to  be  in  Tweed  one  day,  when  a  woman 
with  a  broad  grin  on  her  face  stopped  me 
on  the  street  an'  said : — 

"  Don't  you  know  who  I  be  ?  " 

"You've  got  me  there,"  says  I. 

"  I'm  the  girl  from  Bald  Mountings," 
says  she,  showin'  her  teeth. 

Say !  It's  a  caution  what  wonderful 
teeth  you'll  find  in  the  back  townships. 

"That  may  be,"  says  I,  "  but  I'm  un- 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

acquainted  with  the  aristocracy  of  that 
locality,"  I  says  in  a  good-natured  tone. 

"  Don't  you  remember  the  ride  we  had 
that  cold  winter's  day  ?"  says  she,  and 
looked  fair  into  my  face. 

It  come  to  me  like  a  flash.  She  watched 
the  smile  come  into  my  eyes,  an'  I  re 
membered  the  occasion. 

"  I  thought  you  was  pretty  mad  with 
me,"  says  I,  with  a  grin. 

"  I  was,  for  a  long  time,"  says  she, 
"  but  I  made  up  my  mind,  after  a  bit,  it 
wasn't  your  fault,  and  that  you  was  really 
very  kind  to  me." 

"  How  did  you  ever  get  out  of  there 
alive?"  says  I. 

"  I  did  freeze  my  ears,"  she  says,  "  but 
I  footed  it  all  the  way." 

"Workin'  here?"  I  inquired. 

"  No,  I'm  married  now,"  says  she,  with 
out  the  least  bashfulness.  "  My  man 
runs  a  livery  stable,  and  he  says  he  knows 
you  real  well.  When  I  told  him,  he 
says  :  f  Yes,  I  know  George, — everybody 
1 66 


THE  COLD  GIRL 

knows  George.  There  ain't  the  least  par 
ticle  of  harm  in  George.  He  only  likes 
a  good  joke.' ' 

Then  I  thought  of  that  left  foot  twistin' 
about  in  the  air,  and  I  come  to  the  con 
clusion  that  her  man  had  sized  me  up 
about  right. 


The   Calgary   Poet 

If  there  ever  was  a  feller  completely 
lost  in  the  world,  it  was  a  young  chap  I  run 
across  out  in  Calgary,  one  Christmas  week, 
when  I  was  snowed  in  there. 

I  was  travellin'  for  a  Montreal  firm 
then,  and  used  to  get  'round  to  Calgary 
about  once  a  year.  A  remarkable  little 
town  is  that,  but  a  most  terrible  lonesome 
place  in  which  to  be  snowbound. 

This  young  feller  who  I'm  tellin'  you 
about  was  clerk  in  the  post-office  out  there. 
A  tall,  lanky,  awkward  chap  he  was,  with 
clear,  big,  brown  eyes  an'  as  pleasant  a 
face  as  you  ever  want  to  see.  Me  an'  him 
was  friends  the  minute  we  set  eyes  on  one 
another,  and  every  night  after  office  hours 
he'd  come  down  to  the  hotel  an'  play 
checkers  with  me  for  a  while,  and  then 
168 


THE  CALGARY  POET 

we'd  drift  into  tellin'  yarns  about  when 
we  was  little  fellers,  for  it  was  Christmas 
week,  you  know,  when  one  is  always  a  bit 
soft-hearted  if  he  amounts  to  shucks  in 
the  world,  and,  as  it  turned  out,  the  post- 
office  chap  was  a  farmer  boy,  too,  born 
an'  raised  in  New  Hampshire.  How  he 
come  to  drift  out  to  Calgary  he  never  told 
me,  and  I  forgot  to  ask  him. 

Well,  sir,  I  told  him  all  about  me  an' 
Ed  an'  Jane,  and  the  fun  we  used  to  have 
together,  and  he'd  sit  an'  listen,  them  big 
eyes  of  his  drinkin'  it  all  in.  I  never 
told  a  yarn  to  any  one  who  enjoyed  it 
more. 

Ed,  you  know,  died  just  when  he'd  come 
to  be  a  young  man  an'  full  of  promise, 
and  when  I  told  the  chap  about  him,  and 
how  he  used  to  play  the  fiddle  by  the 
hour  an'  make  up  fairy  stories,  his  eyes 
glistened  a  bit,  and  I  kinder  felt  queer 
myself. 

Say  !  You'd  oughter  known  Ed.  He 
was  all  right.  I've  met  many  fellers  up 
169 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

an*  down  the  country — good  an'  bad — 
but  I  never  met  any  one,  man,  woman  or 
child,  that  I  liked  as  I  did  him.  Father 
an'  mother  an'  Jane,  they  was  all  dear  to 
me ;  but  Ed — well,  now  you  know,  I 
can't  just  put  it  the  way  I  want  to. 

You  see,  we  was  boys  together  on  the 
old  farm,  and  us  two  kids  was  all  there 
was  in  the  big  world.  We  didn't  know 
nothin'  about  anybody  else.  The  world 
was  made  for  us  alone,  and  we  roamed  up 
an'  down  the  face  of  that  farm,  never  darin' 
to  go  beyond  the  line  fence,  (for  father 
had  forbid  us),  just  a-wonderin'  and 
a-findin'  out. 

You'd  ought  to  a-heard  Ed  tellin'  me 
an'  Jane  about  Hell.  It  would  be  on  a 
warm  summer  evenin',  when  the  sun 
went  down  red  an'  the  three  of  us  'ud  be 
settin'  on  the  rail  fence  at  the  head  of  the 
lane,  while  the  folks  did  the  milkin'.  He'd 
begin  soft  an'  shivery  about  the  sun,  and 
would  lead  on  to  the  judgment  day  when 
Gabriel  would  blow  his  horn,  and  the 
170 


THE  CALGARY  POET 

earth  'ud  be  burnt  up  an'  the  dead  would 
all  stand  before  God — the  good  people  on 
the  right  hand  an'  the  bad  people  on  the 
left.  Jane  'ud  be  blubberin'  by  this  time, 
but  that  was  what  Ed  liked.  Then  he'd 
have  us  in  the  lake  of  fire  an'  brimstone, 
and  describe  the  Old  Boy  standin'  on  the 
brink,  gnashin'  his  teeth  at  us,  till  even 
he  got  scart  himself,  and  we'd  creep  to  the 
house  a-holdin'  hands — Jane  in  the  mid 
dle — and  hang  'round  mother,  not  darin' 
to  go  to  bed  in  the  dark. 

My!  What  an  imagination  Ed  did 
have !  If  he'd  only  lived,  he'd  made  a  name 
for  himself  sure.  There  wasn't  anything 
one  knew  that  the  other  didn't.  We  liked 
the  same  things  to  eat,  and  what  the  one 
had  the  other  had  to  have,  or  there'd  been 
a  row. 

I  remember  once  father  brought  me 
home  a  pair  of  plug  boots,  with  blue  tops 
an'  copper  toes, — but  I'll  tell  you  about 
that  another  time.  We  used  to  fight  an' 
quarrel  between  us,  me  an'  Ed,  but  it 
171 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

didn't  take  long  to  forget  all  about  it. 
When  I  got  into  dispute  with  the  boys  at 
school  I  was  a  great  feller  for  arguin' 
about  an'  darin'  'em  to  do  this  an'  that 
before  comin'  to  fists.  I  never  really  took 
to  fightin'  at  school,  not  bein'  naturally 
clever  at  it ;  but  Ed  was  a  holy  terror. 
Just  let  a  boy  pitch  into  me,  and  he  was 
at  him  like  a  cat,  cryin'  to  beat  the  band 
an'  smashin'  right  an'  left.  Why,  he'd 
lick  a  feller  twice  his  size  in  two  shakes 
of  a  lamb's  tail,  he  was  that  furious.  There 
wasn't  anything  to  do  but  to  run,  and  he 
was  such  a  little  feller,  too. 

When  we  growed  up  we  wasn't  so  com 
municative  to  one  another,  but  our  hearts 
was  just  the  same,  and  when  he  died, — 
well,  now  you  know,  it  just  mellered  me 
down,  and  I've  been  a  bit  soft-hearted 
ever  since. 

I  run  on  just  like  this  to  the  Calgary 

chap,  and  he'd  set  an'  listen  just  as  I  told 

you.     Well,  one  night  I  told  him  about 

a  time  when  father  an'  mother   had  gone 

172 


THE  CALGARY  POET 

to  prayer  meetin'  of  a  winter's  night,  and 
me  an'  Ed  an'  Jane  was  left  all  alone,  and 
how  Ed  got  out  his  riddle,  which  he  dasn't 
play  when  father  was  about, — fiddles 
bein'  considered  wicked, — and  played  to 
me  an'  Jane  just  whatever  come  in  his 
head. 

Ed  must  certainly  a-been  a  wonder  with 
the  riddle,  for,  as  I  told  this  chap,  one 
time  years  after,  when  I  was  in  Boston,  I 
went  to  hear  a  feller  play  who  had  the 
name  of  bein'  the  crack  fiddler  of  the 
world.  And  he  was  an  almighty  good 
player,  too,  but  he  couldn't  make  the 
fiddle  talk  the  way  Ed  could.  Jane  could 
back  me  up  in  this.  Why  say!  When 
he'd  shut  his  eyes  an'  play  "  Robin 
Adair,"  your  soul  'ud  go  right  out  of 
you,  and  you'd  wake  up  when  he  was 
done  with  your  mouth  wide  open. 

The  next  evenin',  after  we'd  played  a 
few  games  of  checkers,  my  Calgary  friend 
took  a  piece  of  paper  from  his  pocket  an' 
handed  it  to  me,  kinder  sheepish  like. 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  It's  about  Ed's  playin'  to  you  an' 
Jane,"  he  said. 

I  took  the  paper  an'  glanced  it  over. 
It  was  poetry,  done  in  a  neat,  round  hand, 
as  plain  as  print.  Here's  the  identical 
piece  in  my  pocket-book  now.  Kind  of 
rusty,  ain't  it? — but  it's  his  writin',  just 
as  he  put  the  words  down  in  his  bedroom 
that  night  in  Calgary. 

THE   LITTLE   FIDDLE  ED    PLAYED   ON 

Sarsarty  was  the  fiddler's  name, 
An'  he  could  play, 
Well,  I  should  say ! 
'Twas  a  whole  circus  an'  a  shinny  game 

To  hear  him  make  that  fiddle  talk, 
An'  laugh  an'  cry's  if  like  to  die; 

He  made  it  dance,  he  made  it  walk, 
He  made  it  sing,  he  made  it  sigh ; 
He  sent  the  notes  clear  up  to  Mary, 
An'  then  way  down  to  the  Old  Harry; 
He  knew  no  doubt  what  he  was  about; 

He  fairly  set  me  cryin'  once, 
An'  then  he  made  me  laugh  right  out — 

I  felt  as  sheepish  as  a  dunce. 
But  arter  all  is  said  an'  done — 

Arter  all  the  fine  notes  he  'ud  take — 
'Twan't  no  sech  music's  Ed  'ud  make 

With  the  little  fiddle  he  played  on. 

174 


THE  CALGARY  POET 

That  was  the  cutest  little  fiddle ! 
It  was  as  black 
As  a  factory  stack — 
It  allers  seemed  ter  me  a  riddle 

Where  all  them  pretty  sounds  'ud  stay, 
They  was  so  sweet,  so  shy,  so  neat; 

An'  then  the  way  that  Ed  'ud  play ! 
There  wa'n't  nobody  but  'ud  say, 

When  round  the  dancers  gaily  went, 
"  Tip  'm  the  wink  an'  he  could  beat 

The  man  as  made  the  instrument." 
It  was  delicious  jes'  to  feel 
The  bow  a-tunin'  off  a  reel — 
Back  an'  for'ard,  toe  an'  heel, 
Your  eye  a-dancin'  with  your  feet, 
Your  partner  lookin'  flushed  an'  sweet; 
Not  a  false  step,  not  a  break, 
Sech  was  the  music  Ed  'ud  make 

With  the  little  fiddle  he  played  on. 

But  in  the  chimney-corner,  home — 
A  winter  night, 
By  candle  light, — 
The  sweetest  music  seemed  to  come. 

You'd  hear  the  water  laughin',  dancin', 
The  birds  'ud  sing,  the  sleigh-bells  ring; 

You'd  fairly  see  the  horses  prancin', 
An'  then  so  low,  so  sweet  an'  slow, 

You'd  hear  the  fairies  in  the  air 

A-singin'  to  'emselves  up  there 
A  verse  each  time  he  drawed  the  bow; 

An'  Jane  an'  me,  aside  his  knee, 
'Ud  sit  an'  cry  an'  laugh  together, 

An'  watch  the  flickerin'  in  the  fire, 

175 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

An'  speculate  an'  wonder  whether 

The  angels  in  the  holy  choir, 
From  their  gold  harps  sech  notes  'ud  shake, 
As  the  lovely  music  Ed  'ud  make 

With  the  little  fiddle  he  played  on. 

'Tain't  real  awful  bad,  is  it?  You 
know,  I  don't  show  this  to  many  people, 
for  they  wouldn't  appreciate  it,  not  know- 
in'  Ed  an'  his  style  of  playin';  but  you'll 
understand.  Now,  I  ain't  no  poet,  or 
ever  expect  to  be,  and  I  don't  know  good 
from  bad,  but  this  here  bit  of  paper  is 
gold  and  diamonds  to  me,  for  that  Calgary 
feller  just  saw  right  into  my  heart,  and 
put  down  on  paper  feelin's  I  could  never 
express.  Here's  another.  I'll  show  you 
this,  seein'  as  you  liked  the  first. 

I  WANT  TER  GO  BACK  HOME 

The  city's  way  ain't  mine,  nor  it  wa'n't  Ed's  way,  neither, 
The  air  here  never  smelt  a  bit  home-like  to  either; 
Fer  Ed,  you  know,  an'  me  was  farmer  boys,  an'  grew 
Where  the  old  New  England  hills  stare  right  up  through 
The  topsa'l  clouds  at  Heaven.     We  lads  was  brothers, — 
Never  knew  a  wrangle,  fer  what  was  one's  was  t'others; 
An'  when  hard  luck  an'  taxes  jes'  driv  us  off  the  land, 
We  went  right  out'n  the  world,  a-hand  a-holt  o'  hand. 

I76 


THE  CALGARY  POET 

We  knocked  about  consi'drable,  but  only  fer  a  spell, 
An'  I'd  jes'  a-got  a-thinkin'  'at  all  was  goin'  well, 
When  Ed — well,  Ed  he  sez  to  me — "George,  come  ! — 
"  I  want  ter  go  back  home  !  " 

Ed  was  a  han'some  feller's  ever  you'd  wish  to  see; 
Eyes  and  hair's  black's  a  coal,  and  figger  straight's  a  tree. 
Two  years  younger'n  me  an'  everyone  took  to  him  quick, 
If  gittin'  loved  ain't  nat'ral,  Ed  sartainly  knew  the  trick. 
But  he  worked  too   hard  an'  went  completely  down  in  a 

heap; 

Couldn't  eat  nor  nothin',  'ud  wake  so  quick  in  his  sleep 
An'  set  bolt  up,  while  his  eyes  'ud  wildly  roam, 
'S  he'd  say — "George,"  he'd  say,  so  wistful  like  to  me, 
"  I  want  ter  go  back  home  !  " 

What's  a  feller  to  do  with  his  brother  a-sayin'  that 

In  the  pleadin'est  kind  o'  way?     I  could  only  gently  pat 

His  hot  head  with  my  hand,  for  I  knowed  (an'  it  hurt  me 

sore), 
It  wa'n't  no  use  to  say  a  word — there  wa'n't  no  home  no 

more ! 

The  typhoid  fever  had  'im,  he  didn't  know  none  he  see; 
He'd  call  his  friends  queer  names,  but  allers  say   George 

to  me. 
I  never  left  him  a  minit,  though  it  hurt  clean  through  to 

hear 

The  way  he'd  keep  a  talkin'  'bout  old  times  held  so  dear, 
An'  things  I'd  haft  fergotten,  an'  ev'ry  once  an'  awhile 
His  eyes  'ud  snap  an'  sparkle — he'd  grab  my  hand  an' 

smile 
The  beseechin'est   smile,    as  he'd  say — "Come !    George, 

come ! — 

"  I  want  ter  go  back  home  !  " 

I77 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Sometimes  right  in  the  night  he'd  wake  me  out  o'  a  drowse; 
"Git  ready,  George,"  he'd  say,  "we  must  be  fetchin'  the 

cows; 

"Chokecherries's  ripe's  you'd  wish  'em  up  erlong  the  lane; 
"The  cows  ain't  fer  away — I  kin  hear  old  Mulley  plain, 
"  A-ringin'  her    bell.     I'll    run   you   from   here    to    the 

shed." 
Then  I'd  drop  plum  down  at  his  side  an'  cry,  "  Fer  God's 

sake,  Ed, 
"  Let  up,  er  you'll  break  my  heart  !  "    But  he  didn't  know 

a  thing. 
"I  hate  this  water,"  he'd  say.    "Fetch  me  a  drink  from 

the  spring, 

"  Er  a  cup  o'  Limeback's  milk — I  see  the  rich  cream  foam. 
"  Say !  George — what  are  we  stayin'  here  for  ? 
"  I  want  ter  go  back  home  !  " 

He  jes'  went  down  by  inches;   I  knowed  he  had  to  go, 
An'  I  braced  myself  to  meet  it,  though  a -man's  but  a  man, 

you  know. 
Say !   What's  the  love  o'  Heaven,  when  all  is  done  an' 

said, 

'Side  o'  the  love  o'  brothers  who've  allers  had  one  bed  ? 
He  went  quite  suddint  at  last;   he  was  talkin'  the  same  old 

way, 

'Bout  helpin'  me  cut  the  wood  so's  both  o'  us  could  play; 
When  his  face  lit  up  the  sweetes'  I  ever  hope  to  see, 
An'  he  squeezed  my  hand  an'  "George,"  he  says  to  me — 
"The  pussy  willer's  blossomin',  the  egg  plum's  all  erblow; 
"  Red-finned  suckers  in  the  creek's  all  o'  'em  on  the  go; 
"  Same  old  robin's  buildin'  her  nest  in  the  silver  maple's 

limb; 
"  I  long  to  git  my  boots  off  an'  go  in  fer  a  swim; 

I78 


THE  CALGARY  POET 

"Listen  them   birds   tweedlin! — how  splendid   fresh  an' 

sweet 
"Them  lilacs  smell !    I  swan  if  that  there  bob-o-link  don't 

beat 

"  The  grandes'  choir  fer  music !"  An'  then  he  riz  an'  threw 
Himself  right  in  my  arms.    "Oh,  George,"  he  says,  "it's 

you ! 

"  I  hear  the  bells  a-ringin'  in  the  old  church  dome — 
"  I  want  ter  go  back  home  !  " 

It's  many  a  year  since  I  buried  Ed  a-side  o'  dad  an'  mam; 
I've  tried  to  fit  these  new  ways,  but  I  am  jes'  what  I  am. 
These  songs  I  hear  ain't  ha'f  's  sweet's  what  the  birds  'ud 

sing, 

I  want  ter  smell  them  lilacs,  I  want  a  drink  from  the  spring; 
I  want  ter  hear  the  water  laugh  in  the  rapids  in  the  creek, 
I  want  ter  see  old  "Darb  "  ag'in,  so  lazy,  fat  an'  slick; 
I  want  ter  hear  the  wind  at  night  a-sobbin'  thro'  the  trees, 
I  want  ter  feel  complete  erlone,  with  God  's  all  who  sees; 
I  want  ter  see  them  graves  up  there,  as  placid  as  their  dead, 
I  want  ter  say  my  prayers  ag'in  an'  go  to  bed  with  Ed. 
Fer  my  heart's  up  there  in  the  hills,  no  odds  how  fur  I  roam — 
I  want  ter  go  back  home  ! 

This  is  my  favorite,  and  you  can  better 
believe  it  struck  a  tender  spot  in  my  heart. 

I  met  a  feller  once  in  the  train  between 
Toronto  and  Winnipeg,  and  got  to  talkin' 
with  him.  He  was  a  college  professor 
down  at  McGill  in  Montreal,  and  thinkin' 
he  would  be  a  good  judge  of  poetry,  I 
179 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

showed  him  them  two  pieces  an'  asked 
his  opinion,  not  sayin'  a  word  of  my  con 
nection  with  'em. 

"Well,"  says  he,  "  the  woods  is  full  of 
this  kind  of  stuff — maudlin  sentiment. 
Give  a  man,"  says  he,  "  a  soft  heart  an'  a 
woman's  liver,  and  he'll  flood  the  press 
with  this  kind  of  poetry." 

I  felt  kinder  taken  back,  but  I  kept  my 
temper  an'  asked  him: — 

"  What  kind  of  poetry  is  good  poetry  ?  " 
says  I. 

"  Good  poetry,"  says  he,"  "  is  beautiful 
and  artistic  conceptions  expressed  in  pol 
ished  English."  You  see,  I  remember  it 
word  for  word.  "  Good  poetry,"  says  he, 
goin'  on,  "  is  divine — an  inspiration  to  the 
cultivated  mind.  This  stuff,"  says  he, 
handin'  me  back  my  poor  verses,  "  is  just 
silly  gush." 

Say  !    That  was  a  staggerer  to  me,  and 

I  thought  he  had  me.     But  when  I  got 

to  Winnipeg  I  set  down  in  my  own  room 

an'  hauled  out  the  poetry  an'  read  it  over 

1 80 


THE  CALGARY  POET 

careful.  "  Blame  !  "  says  I,  to  myself,  "it 
reads  smooth  enough  an'  it  certainly  was 
just  as  everything  happened."  And  I 
made  up  my  mind  then  an'  there  that  the 
poetry,  or  the  paintin',  or  the  scenery 
that  touched  your  heart  an'  made  a  better 
man  of  you  was  good  enough  for  me,  and 
that  I'd  stick  by  my  Calgary  poet  through 
thick  and  thin. 

You  can  see  for  yourself  that  every  line 
means  somethin'.  He's  worked  in  a  lot 
of  the  stuff  I  told  him,  and  some  parts 
ain't  strictly  true.  For  instance,  in  the 
first  verse  he  says,  "  Where  the  old 
New  England  hills,"  an'  so  forth.  We 
was  Canada  boys,  me  an'  Ed,  and  I  asked 
him  why  he  "  worked "  in  "  New  Eng 
land." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  I  got  the  idea  in 
my  head  of  the  hills  stickin'  their  noses 
up  through  the  clouds,  and  I  wanted  to 
work  it  in.  There  ain't  any  high  hills 
where  you  was  born,  but  New  England  is 
full  of  'em.  Then  I  wanted  the  New 
181 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

England  hills  in  any  way,  George,"  he 
says,  kind  of  grinnin'  foolish  like,  "  for  I 
was  born  up  in  North  Conway,  and  I 
kinder  like  to  celebrate  them  old  mount 
ains  when  I  get  a  chance." 

Here's  the  only  other  piece  he  wrote 
for  me.  He  struck  it  off  right  under  my 
nose  in  about  ten  minutes. 

DURIN'  P'TRACTED  MEETIN' 

Down  in  Carterville  las'  winter — 
You  know  old  Ebenezer  Snider  ? — 

Nose  on  'im  jes'  's  sharp's  a  splinter, 
Color  o'  nine-y'ar  apple  cider; 

Good  preacher,  though,  's  ever  you  see, 

Sound  at  heart  's  a  white  oak  tree. 

Wall,  to  the  p'int:    As  I  was  sayin', 
Eb  was  holdin'  p'tracted  meetin'; 

Had  the  hull  district  singin'  an'  prayin', 
An'  gittin'  converted.    "  Time  was  fleetin' 

Fast,"  he  said,  "  's  a  blue-winged  pigeon," 

'S  he  hustled  'em  up  ter  git  religion. 

You  know  Jed  Pringle's  second  daughter 
Bethilda? — gal  with  sparklin'  eyes  ? 

Stout  's  Jane,  but  a  little  shorter, 
Bang-up  cook  on  cakes  an'  pies. 

Likelies'  gal  'n  the  place,  it's  said, 

Face  an'  figger  'way  ahead. 

182 


THE  CALGARY  POET 

Bethilda  she  sot  'mong  the  seekers, 

I  sot  over  agin  the  wall; 
But  Lord  !  she  couldn't  keep  them  peckers 

O'  her'n  from  wand'rin'  'round  at  all. 
Thar  wa'n't  'nought  else  's  I  could  see — 
Them  eyes  they  jes'  converted  me. 

First  thing  I  knowed  I  was  sittin' 
'Side  o'  Bet  on  the  pen'tent  seat; 

'Tain't  twice  'n  a  life  a  feller's  gittin' 
So  strong  a  call  from  eyes  so  sweet. 

Conviction  er  love,  no  matter  whether, 

Bethilda  an'  I  driv  home  together. 

Stars  out  bright  an'  moon  a-beamin', 
Snow  on  the  ground  a-dazzlin'  white; 

Clouds  hangin'  low  in  the  west  a-dreamin', 
Never  see  a  perfecter  night. 

So  pure  was  the  earth  an'  sky  above, 

You  couldn't  resist  a-talkin'  love. 

Give  me  a  hoss  as  feels  his  feedin', 
Head  right  up  an'  feet  a-flyin' ; 

A  hoss  's  won't  disgrace  his  breedin', 
Trot  ter  win  if  he  was  dyin' ; 

A  hoss  's  don't  need  much  command, 

So's  a  feller  kin  drive  with  jes'  one  hand. 

"  Wall,"  I  sez,  "Bethilda— Bet,"  sez  I, 

A-feelin'  my  way  each  word,  you  see, 
An'  puttin'  a  p'int  ter  all,  so  sly : 
"  S'pose  you  allers  ride  home  with  me  ?  " 
Heard  the  man  chuckle  in  the  moon, 
As  she  whisper'd,  "Jim,  I'd  jes'  as  soon." 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

The  same  old  story — jes'  the  same, — 

Said  in  'bout  the  same  old  way; 
But  Eb  he  says  it's  a  'tarnal  shame 

We  didn't  go  for'ard  from  that  day. 
Lost  religion — bad  ter  do  it — 
But  we  got  married  an'  that's  next  to  it. 

Did  you  ever  hear  the  like  of  that !  It's 
old  Ebenezer  Snider  to  the  life.  Bethilda 
Pringle  was  the  girl's  name.  I  used  to 
go  to  school  with  her.  She  was  a  beauty 
all  right,  and  as  full  of  the  old  scratch  as 
the  next  one.  Jim  Vandewater  is  the 
feller  who  married  her,  and  a  dum  good 
husband  he  made  her,  too.  They're  rich 
now, — yes,  got  a  three  hundred-acre  farm 
an'  grown-up  children.  Bethilda  an'  Jim 
was  tickled  to  death  when  I  showed  'em 
this  piece.  Got  a  copy  of  it  now  in  the 
family  Bible. 

I  tell  you,  that  Calgary  poet  was  cer 
tainly  lost  in  the  world.  I  read  the  poetry 
in  the  papers  now  an'  then,  and  hope  that 
some  time  I'll  run  across  his  name  at  the 
bottom  of  a  piece. 

Jackson,  that  was   his  name, — Arthur 

184 


THE  CALGARY  POET 

Jackson,  Calgary,  N.  W.  T.  Did  you 
ever  see  it  ?  No  ?  Well,  I  wish  you  had, 
for  that  feller  had  a  heart  in  him  an'  a 
love  of  fun,  and  was  as  good  a  checker 
player  as  I  ever  run  up  against. 


The  Willipers  at   Newport 

The  most  remarkable  thing  about  a 
Rhode  Island  summer  is  the  fact  that  the 
Sundays  are,  with  rare  exceptions,  days  of 
ideal  beauty.  It  may  rain  on  Saturday 
or  on  Monday,  but  on  Sunday  we  expect 
to  find  a  warm  sun  come  out  of  the  sea  to 
the  east  of  Block  Island,  followed  by  a 
gentle  and  invigorating  breeze  that  is  fully 
charged  with  vital  gases. 

It  was  on  one  of  these  golden  Sundays 
that  Little  Jack  Williper  took  his  father 
and  mother  to  Newport  to  see  the  sights 
and  incidentally  to  enjoy  the  sail  on  the 
"  Day  Star." 

Little  Jack  Williper  had  an  imagina 
tion;  his  parents  had  none.  This,  of 
course,  was  owing  to  the  fact  that  Nature 
was  compelled  to  bestow  upon  Little  Jack 
186 


THE  WILLIPERS 

some  wonderful  gift  to  even  up  matters, 
for  she  had  made  a  sad  mess  of  his  body, 
which  was  long  where  it  should  be  short, 
and  flat  where  it  should  be  round.  He 
had  used  crutches  ever  since  he  could 
hold  himself  upright,  and  like  all  lame 
children  he  made  the  most  of  his  oppor 
tunities,  and  could  get  over  the  ground 
by  means  of  these  wooden  legs  at  a  sur 
prisingly  rapid  gait.  His  face  was  a  study 
in  interrogation  points ;  his  eyes  constantly 
asked  questions ;  the  mouth,  the  ears — 
in  fact,  every  line  in  his  face  curved  into  a 
query.  He  was  now  sixteen  years  old 
(looking  twelve),  and  sought  knowledge, 
principally  concerning  kings,  princes, 
dukes,  and  other  gentlemen  of  title.  This 
was  owing  to  the  course  of  reading  he  had 
taken,  for  when  a  mere  child  he  had  read  a 
story  about  Peter  the  Great,  and  had  been 
so  fascinated  with  it  that  his  constant  re 
quest  to  his  father  for  years  had  been  to 
bring  to  him  from  the  Public  Library, 
books  about  the  nobility. 

187 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

In  consequence.  Little  Jack  had  an  ex 
alted  idea  of  life  far  beyond  his  station, 
for  his  father  was  a  "dresser  tender"  in  a 
cotton  mill,  a  place  where  men  work  the 
year  round  in  an  atmosphere  no  degrees 
above  zero,  for  110.50  a  week.  His 
mother  had  been  a  spooler  tender  in  the 
same  mill,  but  since  the  birth  of  Little 
Jack  she  had  ceased  being  a  "new  woman," 
and  now  did  nothing  outside  save  the 
sewing  of  "ready-made  garments  "  for  the 
"  cheapest  clothing  house  on  earth."  Mrs. 
Williper  knew  thoroughly  the  sound 
economic  principle  that  to  sell  cheap  one 
must  buy  cheap,  and  that  to  work  for  the 
"  cheapest  clothing  house  on  earth," 
"  benefactors  of  the  masses,"  etc.,  meant 
36  cents  a  day,  at  most  40. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  home  in 
which  Little  Jack  lived  with  his  father 
and  mother  never  seemed  to  him  the  least 
bit  mean  or  squalid.  He  never  remem 
bered  when  there  were  no  odds  and  ends 
of  shoddy  scattered  over  the  floor,  and 
188 


THE  WILLIPERS 

unwashed  dishes  sitting  on  the  table,  for 
Mrs.  Williper,  being  bred  to  a  spooler 
and  subsequently  post -graduated  at  a 
sewing  machine,  had  not  found  oppor 
tunity  to  cultivate  housewifery,  after  the 
traditional  New  England  fashion. 

Little  Jack  had  a  special  chair  by 
his  own  window,  in  which  sat  three  half- 
starved  geraniums,  which  annually  brought 
forth  as  many  more  fragile  flowers  after 
severe  travail.  In  this  window  seat  he 
read  his  stories  of  kings,  etc.,  sometimes 
to  himself,  but  more  often  to  his  mother, 
who  pretended  to  be  delighted,  and 
actually  became  interested  in  exciting 
places  if  Little  Jack  warned  her  in  advance 
that  something  good  was  coming.  And 
when  he  was  not  reading  he  sat  in  his 
window  and  thought,  the  result  being  that 
he  quickly  evolved  an  imaginative  world, 
in  which  diamonds  and  gold  were  as  stones 
are,  and  where  ermine  and  purple  and  fine 
laces  were  the  common  garments  of  the 
day.  He  knew  well  every  emperor  or 
189 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

king,  from  Solomon  to  young  Alexandria 
of  Servia.  He  had  wallowed  in  the  "  De 
cline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire" 
during  his  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  years ; 
and  so  great  was  his  exaltation  of  spirit 
after  reading  the  resonant  Gibbonian 
record  of  some  stirring  event,  that  at  times 
his  mother  would  declare  that  his  face 
fairly  shone. 

It  was  a  handsome  young  man,  with  a 
Great  Dane  at  his  heels,  who  had  given 
Little  Jack  Williper  the  five  dollars,  on 
the  strength  of  which  he  had  invited  his 
parents  to  see  Newport  with  him.  This 
handsome  young  man,  with  the  hand 
somer  dog,  had  no  excuse  but  idleness  for 
walking  through  the  little  lane  leading  off 
Bull  Dog  Square,  where  the  Willipers 
lived,  and  where  he  found  Little  Jack 
seated  on  the  doorstep,  reading. 

The  peculiar   and  complete  deformity 

of  the  child  attracted  him,  and  he  stopped 

a  moment  to  inquire  what  he  was  reading. 

It  was  Carlyle's  "  Frederick  the  Great," 

190 


THE  WILLIPERS 

and  Little  Jack,  hearing  the  request  of 
this  elegant  young  man,  immediately  gave 
a  twitch  to  his  face,  which  screwed  into 
one  symmetrical  note  of  interrogation,  and 
asked : — 

"  Do  you  really  think  f  Frederick  the 
Great '  was  a  bigger  man  than  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  ?  " 

"  Love  of  God  !  "  cried  the  strange 
young  man,  who  straightway  put  his  hand 
in  his  vest  pocket,  and  finding  a  five-dol 
lar  note,  handed  it  to  Little  Jack  with  the 
remark :  "  Throw  that  rot  away,  sonny, 
and  go  down  the  river  and  breathe  the 
fresh  air.  The  book  is  too  old  for  you." 

"  But  was  he  ?  "  persisted  Little  Jack. 

"  Damned  if  I  know,"  replied  the  young 
man,  as  he  and  the  Great  Dane  continued 
their  way. 

There  are  a  dozen  or  so  seats  on  the 
deck  of  the  "  Day  Star  "  forward,  which 
are  extra  choice.  Three  of  these  seats 
were  secured  by  the  Willipers,  by  follow 
ing  the  example  of  the  early  bird.  Little 
191 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Jack  sat  in  the  middle,  with  his  father  and 
mother,  looking  really  grand  in  their  Sun 
day  best,  on  either  side  of  him. 

Williper  Pere  was  especially  worthy  of 
notice  from  the  fact  that  he  looked  entirely 
happy,  and  yet  not  one  single  article  of 
his  clothing  fitted  him.  His  coat  sleeves 
were  too  short ;  his  trousers  suffered  from 
the  same  affliction  ;  his  collar  was  too  big 
and  his  necktie  roosted  high.  His  face 
was  white  as  chalk,  consequent  on  the  no 
degrees,  and  his  hands  had  been  dyed  so 
many  times  that  they  were  now  a  com 
posite  shade,  most  nearly  like  old  gold. 
Nevertheless  this  man  Williper  was  a 
trusted  employee,  a  kind  and  loving  hus 
band  and  father,  a  man  of  great  sympa 
thies,  sober  and  industrious,  but  wholly 
ignorant.  He  was  perfectly  satisfied  with 
his  position  in  the  world  and  with  his 
family,  and  the  world  was  as  fully  satis 
fied  with  him.  Williper  Pere  was  a  grand 
success. 

Little  Jack  had  been  to  Crescent  Park 
192 


THE  WILLIPERS 

and  Rocky  Point  a  number  of  times  with 
his  parents,  and  he  had  enjoyed  the 
ravishing  delights  of  those  beautiful  shore 
resorts,  where  all  is  fairyland  for  good 
people  and  children,  and  all  tawdryness 
and  debauchery  for  those  who  are  neither 
young  nor  good.  But  his  soul  yearned 
for  Newport,  the  city  of  palaces,  the  home 
of  princes  and  the  Mecca  of  millionaires. 
Neither  his  father  nor  mother  had  ever 
visited  Newport,  so  they  were  also  much 
interested  in  its  possibilities.  Then  they 
had  five  dollars  to  spend,  every  cent  of  it 
to  be  dissipated  before  the  return  to  Bull 
Dog  Square,  as  per  previous  solemn 
agreement. 

Williper  Mere  had  bought  peanuts, 
freshly  baked.  The  "  Day  Star  "  had  not 
reached  Field's  Point  before  she  brought 
the  aforesaid  peanuts  from  a  wonderful 
bag  which  she  always  carried  with  her 
when  she  went  great  distances  from  home, 
like  to  the  Public  Market,  to  Shepard's, 
or  "  Down  the  Bay."  This  bag  held 

193 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

lunch,  popcorn,  four  apples,  and  the  pea 
nuts.  Little  Jack  liked  peanuts,  so  did 
his  mother  and  father,  and  so  did  every 
man,  woman  and  child  on  the  steamer;  for 
soon  above  the  roar  of  the  machinery 
could  be  heard  that  ponderous  crunching 
incident  to  2,000  pairs  of  jaws  coming  to 
gether  upon  2,000  peanuts  at  the  same 
instant.  Peanuts  are  the  especial  delight 
of  Rhode  Islanders.  Clams  have  their 
season,  so  likewise  have  frost  fish  and 
blueberries,  but  peanuts  are  perennial. 

When  the  peanuts  were  consumed,  the 
Willipers  ate  their  lunch  and  the  four 
apples,  saving  the  popcorn  for  the  beach. 
Incidentally  they  admired  the  scenery. 

There  is  only  one  living  creature  which 
has  a  greater  admiration  for  nature,  ex 
pressed  in  silence  through  the  eyes,  than  the 
city  wage-earner,  and  that  is  the  cow,  who, 
having  eaten  of  the  green  grass  as  much 
as  she  desires,  chews  her  cud  and  dream 
ily  looks  out  upon  the  fields  with  love 
and  adoration.  The  workingman  is  less 
194 


THE  WILLIPERS 

demonstrative  than  the  cow,  but  he  cer 
tainly  enjoys  much. 

As  the  "  Day  Star"  glided  past  Nayatt 
and  Prudence,  Williper  Pere  absorbed  all 
the  beauty  of  the  scene,  munched  his  pea 
nuts,  and  occasionally  looked  into  the  eyes 
of  his  wife.  But  he  said  no  words.  A 
highly  educated  man,  seeing  for  the  first 
time  the  wonderful  beauties  of  Narragan- 
sett  Bay  thus  unrolled,  would  have  talked 
admiringly  and  entertainingly  all  the  while 
to  his  companions,  dilating  on  this  and 
that  especial  charm.  Beauty,  like  an  elec 
tric  shock,  goes  through  such  a  man,  ex 
hilarating  every  nerve  for  the  moment. 
Williper  Pere  and  the  cow  hold  fast  to 
impressions,  and  their  lives  are  molded 
thereby. 

Arriving  at  Newport,  the  Willipers 
found  seats  in  a  large  'bus,  whose  driver 
agreed  to  take  his  patrons,  for  a  modest 
fee,  the  entire  ten-mile  drive,  and  inci 
dentally  to  point  out  all  the  chief  points 
of  interest. 

'95 


Little  Jack  was  in  raptures,  but  strange 
to  say,  they  had  no  sooner  reached  Belle- 
vue  avenue,  with  its  marble  palaces  and 
magnificent  cottages,  than  his  heart  fell. 
He  expected  something  far  grander.  Here 
was  a  city,  and  Little  Jack  had  his  mind 
made  up  to  deer-stocked  parks,  in  the 
midst  of  which  stood  immense  baronial 
halls  with  towers  and  battlements.  There 
were  to  be  ponds  with  white  swans  floating 
upon  them,  and  princes  and  princesses 
playing  about,  with  their  tutors  and  nurses 
standing  guardian  near  at  hand.  Instead, 
here  were  only  great  houses  set  in  closely- 
cropped  lawns,  with  men  and  women 
seated  on  the  piazzas  reading  the  Sunday 
papers,  just  as  they  do  everywhere. 

Here  and  there  they  passed  elegant 
equippages  containing  beautifully  gowned 
ladies  on  their  way  home  from  the  morn 
ing  service  at  church,  and  they  were  told 
that  such  and  such  a  carriage  belonged  to 
so  and  so  and  cost  so  much ;  that  the 
owner  possessed  many  millions  and  had 
196 


THE  WILLIPERS 

a  yacht  now  lying  at  anchor  in  the  harbor. 

Suddenly,  however,  their  loquacious 
driver  turned,  and  holding  his  hand  to  the 
left  of  his  mouth,  whispered  hoarsely  : 

"  Keep  your  eyes  on  that  little  red 
headed  cuss  in  the  next  turnout  we  pass 
— him  with  the  girl  in  white  lollin'  beside 
'im, — that's  the  king  of  Saxonia." 

"  Stop  the  'bus  ! "  yelled  Little  Jack 
Williper  with  a  shrill  scream,  as  he 
struggled  frantically  to  get  to  his  feet. 

But  the  carriage  containing  the  king 
and  his  fair  companion  had  dashed  by 
them,  and  all  Little  Jack  could  see  was  a 
glimmer  of  red  hair  and  a  white  hand 
resting  on  a  gold-headed  cane.  And  from 
that  day  to  this  all  kings  in  his  imagina 
tion  have  red  hair  and  carry  golden- 
crowned  walking  sticks.  He  was  naturally 
much  disappointed  because  he  had  not  got 
a  better  view  of  so  exalted  a  personage, 
and  the  driver's  further  remark  that  "dukes 
and  princes  was  thick  as  flies  at  milkin' 
time,"  did  not  mollify  him.  He  wanted 
197 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

to  know  an  hundred  things  at  once. 
"  What  was  this  king's  name  ?  where  was 
Saxonia,  and  what  was  he  doing  here  ?  " 

The  driver  replied  good-naturedly  in 
the  picturesque  language  of  the  handsome 
young  man  with  the  Great  Dane  who  had 
one  day  strayed  into  Bull  Dog  Square, 
and  turning  to  his  horses,  showed  that  as 
far  as  he  was  concerned  the  incident  was 
closed. 

After  the  drive  the  Willipers  had  lunch 
with  ice  cream  in  an  English  tea  room 
on  Bellevue  avenue,  which  Williper  Mere 
enjoyed  immensely,  and  then  they  all 
went  over  to  the  beach,  Little  Jack  rack 
ing  along  like  a  tin  soldier,  looking  each 
moment  as  if  he  would  go  all  to  pieces. 
The  bathers  interested  them  ever  so  much, 
and  they  sat  on  the  sand  and  munched 
their  popcorn  with  delight.  Little  Jack 
would  have  it  that  the  bathers  were 
all  of  the  nobility,  and  offered  to  bet  his 
father  and  mother  many  times  without 
naming  the  stakes  that  such  and  such  a 
198 


THE  WILLIPERS 

one  was  a  king  or  a  duke.  He  set  his 
mind  beyond  argument  on  the  fact  that 
one  plump,  well-formed  young  lady  must 
be  a  princess  of  the  blood  from  the  fact 
that  she  had  red  hair  and  the  skin  of  her 
arms  was  snow  white. 

"She's  a  reigning  princess,  I'm  sure, 
mother,"  he  would  say,  and  kept  direct 
ing  that  parent's  attention  to  her  con 
stantly. 

Presently  the  fair  princess  left  the  water 
and  came  directly  toward  them,  a  smile  of 
greeting  in  her  eyes. 

"  Look  !  mother,  look !  "  cried  Little 
Jack.  "  She's  coming  our  way !  " 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul,  if  it  ain't  Sarah 
Kelley's  girl  Mamie  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Willi- 
per,  whose  vision  had  been  weakened  by 
her  post  graduate  course. 

"Hello,  Mrs.  Williper,"  said  the 
princess,  standing  before  them  and  shaking 
the  water  from  her  hair.  "How  on  earth 
did  you  ever  come  to  get  'way  down 
here  ?  " 

199 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"Little  Jack  fetched  me  an'  father," 
replied  the  mother,  "  with  the  money  the 
gentleman  gave  him.  But,  do  you  know 
what,  Mamie?" 

"Don't!  mother, — don't!"  pleaded 
Little  Jack,  tugging  at  her  sleeve. 

"  Well,  I  won't,  dear — I  won't  tell  her 
if  you  mind,"  his  mother  replied,  sooth 
ingly. 

"What  was  it,  Mrs.  Williper?"  the 
wet  princess  inquired  with  considerable 
curiosity. 

"  Little  Jack  minds  so  I  won't  tell  you 
that  he  spotted  you  for  a  real  princess, 
'cause  you  have  red  hair." 

The  cripple  looked  very  sheepish  at  this 
unexpected  betrayal  of  a  family  confidence, 
but  the  girl  took  it  far  from  unkindly.  She 
reached  down,  and  with  her  plump  hand 
patted  Little  Jack  on  the  cheek. 

"  He  knows  a  thing  or  two — that  kid," 
she  said.  "  Don't  you  mind,  Little  Jack. 
I'm  as  good  as  the  best  of  them." 

"  Where  be  you  workin'  now,  Mamie  ?  " 
200 


THE  WILLIPERS 

inquired  Mrs.  Williper,  offering  the  young 
lady  the  bag  of  popcorn. 

"Over  to  Olneyville,  to  Fletcher's," 
she  replied.  "  I  lost  my  job  at  the  shoe 
string  business,  and  have  gone  back  to  the 
loom." 

"You're  too  gay  for  your  pay,  I'm 
afraid,"  said  Mr.  Williper,  solemnly. 

"  I  intend  to  have  a  good  time  while 
I'm  young  and  alive,"  replied  the  girl,  de 
fiantly.  "  We'll  all  be  long  enough  in 
the  churchyard.  But  my  mother  was  a 
good  woman  before  me,  as  you  well 
know,  Mrs.  Williper,  you  an'  she  havin' 
wound  at  the  same  spooler,  and  I  intend 
to  be  a  good  woman,  too." 

"  Said  well  !  said  well !  "  exclaimed  Mr. 
Williper  almost  with  enthusiasm.  "  Fol 
low  your  mother's  steps,  Mamie,  and 
you'll  win  out." 

"You  ain't  married  yet  or  nothin  ? " 
queried  Mrs  Williper. 

"  Not  yet,  nor  ever  intend  to  be,"  was 
the  sharp  answer.  "The  man  don't  live  as 

201 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

can  have  me  work  for  him.  I  make  my 
own  money  and  I  spend  it  myself.  I'd 
look  pretty  tied  to  any  of  the  men  I 
know!" 

"  Married  life  might  be  worse,  Mamie, 
it  might  be  worse,"  said  Mrs.  Williper, 
soothingly.  "  See  me  an'  father  now,  and 
how  happy  we  be;  and  then  we've  got 
Little  Jack  here,  the  pride  of  our  eyes  an' 
comfort  always." 

"You're  all  right — all  three  of  you,  and 
many's  the  good  word  I've  heard  of  you ; 
but  I'll  take  no  chances  on  marryin'." 

"  It's  a  caution  to  me  how  you  keep 
yourself  so  well  and  handsome,"  Mrs. 
Williper  said,  after  a  bit,  looking  up  with 
admiration  at  the  finely  formed  girl  before 
her. 

"  It  comes  natural,  I  suppose,"  replied 
the  princess  of  the  loom.  "  The  Lord 
knows  I  get  little  chance  to  groom 
myself,  and  weaving  is  not  a  job  to  sigh 
for  in  these  times ;  but  I  think  the  tramp 
over  to  Olneyville  from  Smith's  Hill  in  the 
202 


THE  WILLIPERS 

morning  does  me  good  and  fills  my  lungs 
with  fresh  air  for  the  day.  Then  on  Sun 
days  I  come  down  here  or  to  "  Crescent" 
and  have  a  glorious  bath.  Oh,  how  good 
it  feels !  It's  just  the  same  as  if  I  was  a 
real  princess,  Little  Jack." 

"  You've  got  the  red  hair  and  the  white 
arms,  anyhow,"  said  the  cripple,  with  an 
old-fashioned  smile. 

When  Mamie  had  returned  to  take  a 
final  plunge  in  the  surf,  the  Willipers 
journeyed  back  to  Bellevue  avenue  and 
watched  the  fine  ladies  and  gentlemen 
drive  up  and  down  in  their  carriages.  They 
stood  on  a  corner  so  that  Little  Jack 
might  have  a  lamp-post  to  lean  against, 
and  found  much  pleasure  in  the  gay  pan 
orama  before  them. 

After  a  silence  of  some  time  Williper 
Pere  broke  forth  earnestly: — 

"  I'm  danged,  mother,"  he  said,  "  if 
there's  a  girl  in  the  hull  lot  we've  seen  as 
can  hold  a  candle  to  Sarah  Kelley's  girl 
Mamie." 

203 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Just  then  a  gentleman  who  was  passing, 
seeing  Little  Jack,  paused,  and  pointing 
to  him,  inquired  of  Mr.  Williper : — 

"  Your  son  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Does  he  suffer  much  ?  " 

"  None  at  all,  'cept  for  readin'  matter." 

"  How  strange." 

An  embarrassing  pause,  during  which 
Mrs.  Williper  looked  indignant. 

"  Did  he  fall  ? " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  How  did  he  come  so,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

"  Born  so." 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me ;  and  you  say  he's 
happy  ?  " 

"  Happy  all  the  time,  'specially  when 
readin'  about  kings  and  things." 

"Well  I  declare!    Good  day,  sir." 

The  gentleman  raised  his  hat  politely 
to  Mrs.  Williper,  which  mollified  her  at 
once,  and  passed  on. 

Father  and  mother  looked  question- 
ingly  into  each  other's  eyes  until  Little 
204 


THE  WILLIPERS 

Jack  laid  all  doubts  at  rest  by  saying: — 

"Wasn't  it  funny  that  he  should  ask 
whether  I'm  ever  unhappy  and  you  both 
here ! " 

The  sail  home  was  delightful,  rendered 
more  so  because  Mamie  Kelley  joined 
them  on  the  boat  and  insisted  on  staying 
with  them  so  she  might  hear  Little  Jack 
tell  about  the  queens  and  princesses  he 
had  met  in  his  travels  through  the  Public 
Library. 

It  was  just  supper  time  when  they 
reached  home,  and  after  the  dishes  were 
cleared  away  and  Mr.  Williper  had  filled 
his  pipe  and  gone  to  sleep — an  inevitable 
occurrence — Little  Jack  talked  over  the 
events  of  the  day  with  his  mother,  wind 
ing  up  with  the  remark: — 

"Anyhow,  mother,  I've  got  a  real  king 
to  think  about,  and  Mamie  Kelley'll  da 
for  a  princess  till  I  find  a  better." 


The  Willipers  at  the  Pier 

Ever  since  Little  Jack  Williper's  Sun 
day  excursion  to  Newport  with  his  parents, 
on  which  occasion  the  five  dollar  bill — 
given  him  by  the  fine  young  gentleman 
with  the  finer  Great  Dane,  who  had  strayed 
into  Bull  Dog  Square — had  been  ruth 
lessly  consumed  to  the  last  penny,  it  had 
been  the  ambition  of  Williper  Pere,  Wil- 
liper  Mere  and  Little  Jack  to  visit  Narra^ 
gansett  Pier  and  gaze  upon  the  magnificent 
hotels  there  situated,  and  behold  that 
celebrated  crescent  beach  where  ladies 
bathed  in  white  kid  slippers  and  ballroom 
finery,  and  money  flowed  like  water. 

Mamie  Kelley,  the  beautiful  weaver, 
whom,  it  will  be  remembered,  Little  Jack 
mistook  at  Newport  for  a  princess,  be 
cause  she  had  red  hair  and  her  arms  and 
206 


THE  WILLIPERS 

face  were  so  plump  and  white,  was  inclined 
to  doubt  that  ladies  ever  bathed  in  white 
kid  slippers. 

"Ah,  forgit  it,"  she  had  said  to  Willi- 
per  Mere,  one  warm  night,  when  she  sat 
with  the  Williper  family  on  the  doorstep 
of  their  tenement  and  sweltered  in  the 
hot  air  which  slid  up  the  alley  from  the 
Square.  "  They  wear  kid  slippers — I 
don't  think  !  Little  Jack  has  been  fillin' 
you  up  with  stories  out  of  his  books." 

"  Oh,  I  swear  to  goodness,  Mamie," 
Little  Jack  had  cried,  "  I  read  it  true  and 
honest  in  the  paper.  Yes,  and  some  of 
'em  wear  corsets,  too — sure's  you're  born, 
Mamie.  I  saw  a  picture  of  it,  too." 

Little  Jack's  positiveness  had  aroused 
the  curiosity  of  even  the  phlegmatic 
princess,  and  it  was  decided  then  and 
there  that  a  trip  to  the  Pier  should  be 
enjoyed  as  soon  as  circumstances  would 
permit. 

Now,  Newport  is  common  to  the  alley 
population  of  Providence,  and  Easton's 
207 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Beach  has  done  its  fair  share  in  the  civili 
zation  of  the  "  Great  Unwashed."  The 
eyes  of  Jean  Baptiste  Grandmaison,  mule 
spinner  from  Manville ;  of  John  'Enry 
'Oldsworth,  weaver  of  Olneyville;  of 
Michael  Angelo  Papiti,  banana  incubator 
of  Federal  Hill ;  of  Jerry  Finnerty,  truck 
man  of  Fox  Point,  had  looked  unabashed 
into  the  eyes  of  Vanderbilts,  Astors  and 
foreign  diplomats  and  princes  many  times 
on  Bellevue  avenue,  and  the  possessors 
of  said  first  mentioned  eyes  had  returned 
home  more  satisfied  with  themselves, 
having  discovered  that  a  millionaire  and 
even  a  prince  is  only  a  man,  generally  not 
so  well  set  up  a  man,  either,  as  he  who 
exercises  daily  in  the  gymnasium  of  toil. 

But  Narragansett  Pier  is  a  far-away  land, 
a  wonderful  spot  not  to  be  gazed  upon  by 
common  mortals.  No  boat  then  ran  from 
Providence  to  the  Pier.  Jean,  John, 
Michael  and  Jerry  are  not  desired  at  the 
Pier,  and  it  had  been  made  very  difficult 
for  these  friends  and  fellow  citizens  to 
208 


THE  WILLIPERS 

indulge  in  such  a  trip,  even  though  Nar- 
ragansett  was  only  a  trifle  further  away 
than  Newport.  A  railroad  runs  from 
Providence  to  the  Pier,  but  it  costs  $1.50 
to  make  the  round  trip  thereon,  and  $1.50 
is  1 5  per  cent,  on  the  weekly  wage  of  the 
average  steady  and  clever  laborer  in  Rhode 
Island.  It  is  a  lot  of  money  to  those 
who  dwell  in  the  stifling  precincts  of  Bull 
Dog  Square,  and  the  Willipers  skinched 
and  saved  religiously  for  six  weeks  before 
they  got  together  enough  money  to  defray 
the  necessary  expenses  of  the  trip.  But 
when  this  was  accomplished  they  immedi 
ately  became  happy.  One  day  of  pleasure 
was  before  them.  What  cared  they  for 
months  of  privation ! 

They  chose  a  Thursday  in  August.  It 
was  a  lovely  day.  Williper  Pere  had  got 
a  day  off  by  hiring  a  loafing  dresser  tender 
to  take  his  place  at  an  advance  of  25 
cents  on  his  own  pay.  He  was  dressed 
in  his  blacks,  with  the  same  old  high- 
roosting  collar,  and  he  looked  just  as 
209 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

bleached  out,  as  awkward  and  as  stolid  as 
when  we  saw  him  on  the  "  Day  Star." 
Williper  Mere,  however,  wore  a  new 
gown.  It  had  cost  $4.87,  ready  made, 
and  fitted  like  a  glove.  At  least  the  sales 
lady  had  so  informed  her.  To  the  casual 
observer  it  was  one  of  those  high-up-in- 
front  and  low-down-behind  kind  of  dresses 
which  are  apt  to  make  one  doubt  whether 
it  is  possible  to  fit  the  human  female 
figure  by  machinery.  Little  Jack  looked 
as  usual.  He  was  so  crooked  and  twisted 
by  his  deformity  that  none  ever  saw  his 
clothes.  He  sagged  down  in  his  crutches 
and  stood  waiting  for  the  train,  perfectly 
content  with  all  things.  Mamie  Kelley, 
who  joined  them  at  the  depot,  having 
"flung  her  clothes  on,"  as  she  described 
it,  caused  Little  Jack's  eyes  to  brighten 
immensely,  for  Mamie  certainly  had 
"  flung  on "  a  white  muslin  gown  most 
artistically,  and  the  morning  sun  in  her 
hair  made  it  ripple  like  a  golden  sea. 
Mamie  made  all  her  own  clothes  at  odd 

2IO 


THE  WILLIPERS 

times  after  work  hours,  and  the  Lord 
knows  where  she  got  her  idea  of  style, 
but  she  evidently  got  it  from  somewhere, 
for  she  certainly  knew  how  to  look  well. 
It  was  owing  in  part,  no  doubt,  to  her 
splendid  figure  and  the  graceful  way  she 
handled  herself. 

Mamie  sat  with  Little  Jack  in  the  train 
and  held  his  hand  while  he  dilated  on  the 
wonderful  doings  of  a  certain  Mary,  Queen 
of  Scots,  of  whom  Mamie  had  never  heard, 
but  concerning  whom  Little  Jack  had  read 
with  much  pleasure. 

"  I  tell  you  she  had  a  hard  time  of  it," 
Little  Jack  said,  with  a  sigh.  "They  killed 
every  man  she  looked  at,  shet  her  up  on 
a  lonesome  island,  and  wound  up  by  cut 
ting  her  head  off.  I  swanny  some  of  them 
old  time  kings  and  queens  had  no  such 
soft  snap  as  we  think.  Her  name  was 
Mary,  just  like  your's,"  he  added,  after  a 
brief  pause.  "  I  wonder  did  they  call  her 
Mamie." 

Mamie  Kelley  laughed  and  patted  the 
211 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

cripple's  hand.  "You're  always  making 
me  out  a  princess  or  something,  you 
dreamy  kid.  What  do  I  care  for  Mary 
Scots?  She's  dead  a  long  time,  and  here 
I  am  and  here  we  go  'way  down  to  the 
Pier  to  see  all  the  rich  people." 

"  Don't  you  ever  wish  to  be  rich, 
Mamie  ? "  Little  Jack  inquired,  looking 
up  into  her  eyes. 

"  You  bet  your  life  I  do,"  was  the 
prompt  reply. 

"  What  would  you  do  ? " 

"  What  would  I  do  ?  "  The  girl  gazed 
wistfully  at  the  roof  of  the  car.  "  I  would 
first  have  a  beautiful  home  with  a  green 
lawn  around  it,  where  I  wouldn't  have  a 
thing  to  do;  then  I'd  have  two  new 
dresses  for  every  day  in  the  month,  then 
I'd  go  to  New  York  and  see  the  sights." 
The  girl  dropped  her  eyes  and  looked 
down  at  her  companion  and  laughed. 
"Ah,  fergit  it,"  she  said ;  "  aint  it  silly  to 
be  a  wishin'?" 

Arriving  at  the  Pier,  the  party  made  a 

212 


THE  WILLIPERS 

bee  line  for  the  bathing  beach,  and,  seat 
ing  themselves  upon  the  sand,  watched 
the  bathers.  There  were  probably  two 
hundred  enjoying  the  surf  that  morning, 
and  sure  enough  Little  Jack  quickly  dis 
covered  a  young  lady  in  white  kid  slippers 
and  dainty  attire,  promenading  up  and 
down  the  white  sand,  holding  above  her 
head  a  red  silk  parasol.  The  gentleman 
who  accompanied  her  was  a  stalwart  young 
man  in  a  regulation  bathing  suit.  The 
Willipers  watched  this  couple  closely, 
but  to  their  disappointment  the  daintily 
arrayed  lady  did  not  go  near  the  climbing 
surf  creepers. 

"She's  just  out  to  show  her  shape," 
Mamie  said  with  disgust  after  a  bit,  and 
then  she  quoted,  cocking  her  head  airily : 

"  Mother,  may  I  go  out  to  swim?  " 
"  Yes,  my  darling  daughter. 
"  Hang  your  clothes  on  a  hickory  limb, 
"  But  don't  go  near  the  water." 

They  soon  forgot  the  lady  in  kid  slip 
pers  and  corsets,  while  watching  the  lively 
213 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

scene  in  the  water  before  them.  There 
were  old  bald-headed  fat  men,  and  scraw- 
ney  bald-headed  lean  men ;  stout  old 
women  in  big  poke  sun-bonnets,  thin 
old  women  who  shivered  constantly; 
jolly  young  men  and  girls  who  romped 
in  the  surf,  and  timid  people  who  crept 
to  the  water's  edge  and  nibbled  at  a  bath. 

Williper  Pere  was  enjoying  himself 
hugely.  The  old  people  in  particular 
interested  him.  They  looked  so  funny, 
puffing  and  blowing,  and  they  were  so 
outlandish  as  to  figure. 

"  Aint  it  just  horrid  what  shapes  people 
have  ? "  Williper  Mere  whispered  to 
Mamie.  "  See  that  fat  woman  there, 
swashin'  about.  'J'ever  see  the  like  ?  If 
I  was  her,  I'd  take  a  bath  in  my  bed 
room." 

"  Long  as  she  don't  mind,  what  need  we 
care  ?  "  Mamie  returned,  philosophically. 
"  She's  natural,  anyhow,  and  not  like  that 
cat  promenading  up  and  down." 

Mamie  evidently  had  taken  a  strong 
214 


THE  WILLIPERS 

aversion  to  Miss  Corsets  and  Kid  Slippers, 
for  her  eyes  stabbed  her  whenever  she 
came  in  range.  No  one  hates  sham  like 
the  wage  earner.  The  "Well,  I'll  be  gol 
darned  !  "  of  the  farmer,  as  a  butterfly  of 
the  genus  summer  girl  or  a  golf  dude 
passes  in  his  sight,  is  expressive  of  the 
most  withering  contempt.  The  plain 
people  know  honesty  when  they  meet  it 
on  the  street. 

After  the  bathers  had  come  from  the 
water  Williper  Pere  manifested  symptoms 
of  hunger,  so  the  party  adjourned  to 
"  The  Rocks  "  and  ate  their  lunch,  while 
the  Atlantic  slapped  the  shore  with  its 
long  swell  and  out  to  sea  tall  ships  moved 
up  and  down  in  the  lane  of  commerce. 
How  invigorating  was  the  salt  air !  Little 
Jack  expanded  his  lungs  and  looked  up 
into  his  mother's  face  and  laughed.  The 
bleached  face  of  Williper  Pere  took  on 
almost  a  rosy  hue,  and  Mamie  Kelley  let 
down  her  glorious  red  hair  and  gave  sea 
and  sun  their  will  of  it. 
215 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

How  hungry  they  were !  But  they  had 
plenty  to  eat  and  plenty  to  toss  to  the 
sand  pipers.  While  eating,  Little  Jack 
must  tell  a  story. 

Somewhere,  sometime  he  had  read  about 
an  old  fisherman  who  used  to  fish  from 
these  same  rocks  year  after  year  for  black 
fish,  and  how  one  day  he  fell  asleep  with 
his  pole  in  his  hands.  It  was  then  that 
the  king  of  the  black  fish  seized  the  line 
and  dragged  the  old  fisherman  into  the 
water — down,  down  to  the  palace  of  the 
water  babies,  where  he  was  well  tended  to, 
but  from  which  he  was  never  allowed  to 
escape,  "and  perhaps,"  Little  Jack  said, 
gravely,  "  he's  down  there  now,  for  all 
we  know." 

<(  Who  ever  heard  tell  of  water  babies?" 
cried  Williper  Mere. 

"  Oh,  yes  they  be — they  be — oh  yes  !  " 
insisted  Little  Jack.  "  Little  water  babies ; 
they  live  in  the  water  and  float  about  and 
have  a  fairy  godmother.  Oh,  I  know 
it's  true  all  right,  for  a  preacher  wrote 
216 


THE  WILLIPERS 

about  them.  There  was  a  little  boot 
black — no,  a  chimney  sweep  it  was,  as  fell 
into  the  water  and  was  turned  into  a  water 
baby.  My,  what  a  time  he  had !  " 

"  How  could  a  baby  live  in  the  water  ?  " 
his  mother  asked,  incredulously. 

"  Why,  a  frog  as  lived  there  told  him 
how.  Don't  frogs  live  in  the  water  ?  Well, 
this  frog  was  a  big  bull  frog,  and  he  told 
this  chimney  sweep  water  baby  just  how 
to  do  it.  Anyway,  he  lived  and  got  mar 
ried  and  swam  far  out  to  sea." 

"  I'll  bet  there  is  water  babies,"  Mamie 
Kelley  said,  with  a  wink  at  Little  Jack's 
parents.  "  I  remember  once  when  I  was 
in  bathing  down  to  Crescent,  something 
caught  hold  of  my  toe  and  I  put  for 
shore.  I  sat  down  on  the  sand  and  held 
up  my  foot,  and  what  do  you  think  I  saw 
but  a  water  baby — a  little  naked  water 
baby  sittin'  a-straddle  of  my  toe  and 
hangin'  on  to  beat  the  band." 

"  Now,  didn't  I  tell  you  !  "  cried  Little 
Jack,  clapping  his  hands.  "  But  what 
217 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

did  you  do  with  the  water  baby  ? "  he 
inquired,  eagerly. 

"  Well,  of  course  I  was  surprised  at 
first.  Then  I  reached  down  to  pick  the 
kid  up,  but  he  just  twisted  up  one  corner 
of  his  mouth,  and  sayin'  f  not  on  your 
life ! '  takes  a  header  into  the  water." 

"  If  that  don't  beat  all !  "  Little  Jack 
exclaimed,  and  he  looked  wistfully  down 
at  the  water,  hoping  that  he,  too,  might 
see  a  real  water  baby,  while  Mamie  and 
his  parents  grinned  at  each  other  know 
ingly. 

There  is  a  rest  in  the  slap,  slap,  slap 
of  the  sea — rest  and  peace.  Mother  of 
us  all,  the  sea  soothes  her  children  when 
they  come  down  to  her  and  lie  by  her 
side.  Care  is  forgotten.  Realities  fade 
away  and  dreams  come.  Dreams  certainly 
came  to  Williper  Pere  when  he  drew  off 
to  the  shade  of  a  large  boulder,  if  the 
sounds  which  came  from  his  direction 
were  authentic.  Little  Jack  placed  his 
head  in  his  mother's  lap  and  went  to 
218 


THE  WILLIPERS 

sleep,  and  the  two  women  stood  guard 
and  looked  out  to  sea. 

After  the  nap  they  all  marched  up  the 
Ocean  Drive  and  saw  what  they  could  see 
of  the  hotels  and  cottages.  It  was  great 
amusement  for  them  to  watch  four  chil 
dren — two  little  girls  and  two  boys,  all 
daintily  dressed  in  blue  and  white,  playing 
tennis  on  the  lawn  of  one  of  the  great 
hotels.  Mamie  held  Little  Jack  upon  the 
curbing  so  that  he  might  see.  The  four 
children  were  very  graceful  and  very 
active.  They  drove  the  ball  back  and 
forth  with  amazing  speed. 

As  they  were  thus  standing  a  lady 
came  down  from  the  hotel — a  tall,  angu 
lar  woman,  with  a  set,  severe  face.  She 
noticed  Little  Jack  and  started  at  his 
peculiar  knotted  appearance. 

"  Dear  me,"  she  said  to  Williper  Mere, 
"are  you  his  mother?" 

"Yes  'um,"  replied  that  lady,  slowly. 

The  tall  woman  came  nearer  and  whis 
pered  : 

219 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  Born  so  ?  " 

"  Yes  'urn." 

Another  look  at  Little  Jack  and  then 
another  deep  whisper : 

"  Which  hotel  are  you  stopping  at?" 

"  We  aint  stopping  anywhere,  bein' just 
down  from  the  city  for  the  day,"  Williper 
Mere  replied,  stupidly. 

The  tall  woman  opened  her  hand  and 
placed  what  it  held  in  that  of  Mrs.  Willi 
per.  "  Buy  him  what  he  would  like  best 
of  all  in  the  world,"  she  said,  and  almost 
smiled.  Then  she  went  on. 

All  eyes  were  on  Williper  Mere  when 
she  in  turn  opened  her  hand.  It  held  a 
$10  note. 

"  And  I  took  her  for  a  regular  Tartar," 
Mamie  gasped. 

Williper  Pere  grinned.  "There's  kind 
hearts  in  the  world,"  he  said. 

They  then  resumed  their  walk  along 
the  sea  wall,  paid  another  visit  to  the 
beach,  ate  a  bag  of  peanuts,  one  ditto  of 
sweet  corn,  drank  each  a  glass  of  root 

220 


THE  WILLIPERS 

beer,  and  slowly  made  their  way  to  the 
depot. 

It  was  at  the  depot  that  they  saw  the 
Russian  Ambassador.  Little  Jack,  whose 
ears  were  wide  open,  heard  a  man  behind 
him  whisper,  "There's  the  Russian  Am 
bassador,"  and  turning  saw  him  point  to 
a  foreign  looking  gentleman  standing  be 
tween  two  young  ladies,  and  looking  very 
much  like  a  common,  every  day  kind  of 
a  being. 

The  news  was  quickly  communicated 
to  his  friends,  and  the  celebrated  diplomat 
received  a  careful  scrutiny. 

"He's  seen  the  Czar,"  hoarsely  whis 
pered  Little  Jack.  Then,  to  the  surprise 
of  his  parents  he  shot  off  sideways  and 
was  standing  on  his  crutches  before  the 
Ambassador. 

" Have  you  seen  the  Czar?  "  the  cripple 
asked,  eagerly. 

The  great  man  looked  down  upon  the 
eager  face  upturned  to  his  and  replied : 
"  Many  times,  little  brother." 

221 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  Then  let  me  take  your  hand,  for  I 
worship  the  Czar.  He's  the  biggest  of 
'em  all,"  Little  Jack  cried,  unabashed. 

Mamie  Kelley  had  now  seized  the  crip 
ple  and  spirited  him  away. 

The  eyes  of  the  diplomat  rested  upon 
her  inquiringly.  He  perhaps  was  won 
dering  whether  the  serfs  of  the  American 
Republic  bore  such  daughters  as  she. 
Mamie  had  not  failed  to  observe  this  half 
startled  look,  and  in  her  heart  she  treas 
ured  it  for  many  a  long  day.  She  knew 
what  the  look  meant.  She  had  been  ad 
mired  by  one  of  the  greatest  men  in  the 
world.  Had  she  well  spent  her  day ! 
The  fact  that  she  sang  at  her  loom  for  a 
week  afterwards,  and  that  she  strode  home 
ward  over  Smith's  Hill  alone  at  night, 
showed  she  was  well  satisfied  with  her 
self. 

Little  Jack,  moreover,  was  in  raptures, 
and  his  parents  greatly  admired  his  bold 
ness. 

It  had  been  for  all  a  spendid  day.   They 

222 


THE  WILLIPERS 

had  beheld  and  admired.  They  had  list 
ened  to  the  crooning  of  the  sea.  They 
had  received  a  $10  note  from  the  skies, 
and  had  varying  impressions  of  a  famous 
Ambassador. 

But  what  to  do  with  this  $10.  It  was 
to  be  spent  for  Little  Jack,  to  purchase 
what  he  liked  best  in  the  world. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  Little 
Jack  himself,  as  they  sat  about  the  supper 
table  and  discussed  the  proposition ;  "  we'll 
put  it  by  and  on  Thanksgiving  day  have 
Mamie  to  a  real  swell  dinner,  for  we've 
had  a  bang-up  time." 

This  suited  everybody,  and  it  was  de 
cided  as  outlined  by  Little  Jack. 

Then  Mamie  went  home  wondering 
what  it  would  seem  like  to  be  able  to 
stand  by  the  side  of  a  great  man,  his 
social  equal. 

"Anyhow,"  she  said  to  herself,  "if  I 
am  only  Mamie  Kelley,  I  know  what's 
what,  and  I'm  just  as  good  as  the  best 
of 'em. 

223 


The  Willipers'  Thanksgiving 

Bull  Dog  Square  looked  cold  and  cheer 
less  on  the  morning  of  Thanksgiving  day. 
A  restless  northwest  wind  picked  up  the 
dust  and  scattered  it  broadcast  in  blinding 
clouds.  The  great  shoe  string  mill  and 
the  dye  works  were  shut  down.  All  the 
stores — those  squalid  little  Jew  clothing 
stores — were  closed,  and  Mammy  Yates, 
having  sold  out  her  dozen  morning  papers, 
put  the  blinds  before  the  windows  of  her 
atomic  emporium  and  drifted  away  with 
the  wind  to  her  daughter's  house  for  a 
holiday.  The  rum  shops,  however,  kept 
open,  in  hopes  that  some  poor  devils 
would  be  found  so  unfortunate  as  to  have 
no  happier  place  to  go  to  and  would  come 
to  them  with  their  small  offerings  of  silver 
and  celebrate  the  day  in  inebriety.  To 
224 


THE  WILLIPERS 

To  the  credit  of  Bull  Dog  Square  there 
were  few  of  these  miserables,  and  the  lazy, 
fat  faced  bartenders  stood  gazing  out  sadly 
through  the  half  closed  windows  of  their 
ill  smelling  haunts. 

There  was  plenty  of  cold  and  hunger 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Square  on 
this  day  proclaimed  by  the  President  as  a 
day  of  special  thanksgiving  to  God  for 
the  bountiful  harvest  and  the  peace  and 
prosperity  of  the  land.  People  are  always 
hungry  there,  for  while  they  eat,  they  are 
seldom  well  fed,  and  the  winds  have  years 
ago  discovered  how  to  spin  through  the 
houses. 

But  in  the  home  of  the  Willipers  there 
was  warmth  and  good  cheer,  while  a  smash 
ing  big  turkey  was  fast  taking  on  a  ripe 
brown  in  the  pan  where  he  roasted.  This 
turkey,  the  nuts,  raisins,  pop-corn,  candy 
and  other  good  things  which  were  in 
evidence  on  the  sideboard,  had  been  pur 
chased  with  the  ten  dollars  the  stern  look 
ing  lady  at  the  Pier  had  given  Williper 
225 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Mere,  to  be  spent  on  what  Little  Jack 
liked  best  in  the  world. 

Williper  Pere  sat  in  shirt  sleeves  by  the 
window,  industriously  trying  to  work  a 
steel-ring  puzzle  which  he  had  bought  for 
Little  Jack,  and  which  in  a  fatal  moment 
of  idleness  he  had  picked  up  with  the  in 
tention  of  showing  his  son  just  how  the 
man  had  shown  him  it  was  done. 

Williper  Mere  had  manifested  much 
interest  in  watching  him  at  first,  even  to 
the  neglect  of  the  turkey ;  so  had  Little 
Jack,  but  they  gave  it  up  with  a  sigh  after 
a  while.  He  continued  alone,  squeezing, 
twisting,  turning  the  rings  which  looked 
so  innocent,  but  which  couldn't  be  pre 
vailed  upon  to  go  together. 

Mamie  Kelley,  the  beautiful  weaver, 
received,  as  we  already  know,  a  special  in 
vitation,  and  had  come  over  early.  She 
had  endeavored  to  assist  Williper  Mere 
in  getting  dinner  ready,  but  had  been 
squelched  in  the  following  words  : — 

"  Now,  you  go  and  sit  down,  Mamie. 
226 


THE  WILLIPERS 

I  won't  have  you  raise  your  hand.  It's 
tired  you  must  be,  workin'  always  as  you 
do,  and  I  just  want  you  to  enjoy  yourself 
an'  rest." 

This  suited  Little  Jack,  and  he  in 
veigled  her  over  by  his  window,  where  he 
sat  with  his  trusty  crutches  at  his  side. 

"You  come  here,  Mamie,"  he  said, 
"and  I'll  tell  you  about  the  finest  king 
I've  come  across  so  far." 

The  girl  seated  herself  quietly  beside 
him  and  took  one  of  his  wasted  hands  in 
hers. 

"  Go  ahead,  Jacky,"  she  said.  "  Tell 
me  all  about  him." 

Little  Jack's  eyes  sparkled.  It  was 
not  often  that  he  had  the  pleasure  of  tell 
ing  a  story  to  any  one  but  his  parents, 
and  they  never  seemed  to  understand  the 
way  Mamie  did. 

"This  king,"  he  began,  "was  first  of 

all  the  bravest  knight  in  the  world.     He 

was  tall   and  very   strong,  and  when   he 

had   his  armor  on  he  would  sail   in  and 

227 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

whip  a  dozen  or  more  common  knights 
without  much  trouble.  His  name  was 
Richard  Cure  the  Lion." 

"That's  a  funny  name,"  Mamie  said, 
showing  genuine  interest. 

"  Well,  you  bet  they  had  funny  names 
in  those  days,"  Little  Jack  returned. 
"  They  only  had  first  names,  and  tacked 
on  whatever  was  their  specialty.  This 
king's  name  was  just  Richard,  but  people 
added  f  Cure  the  Lion,'  which  the  book 
said  meant  strong-hearted,  or  with  the 
heart  of  a  lion.  That's  where  the  lion 
comes  in.  Anyhow,  he  was  a  great 
fighter,  and  just  after  he  got  to  be  king 
he  went  to  the  Holy  Land  on  the  crusades." 

"  What  were  they  ? — something  to  ride 
on?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  they  was.  I  don't 
know  just  what  they  was.  Anyway,  he 
rode  a  horse  part  of  the  way  and  went  by 
boat  the  rest." 

"  Perhaps  f  Crusades '  was  the  name  of 
the  boat." 

228 


THE  WILLIPERS 

"  Now  I  never  thought  of  that,"  Little 
Jack  exclaimed.  "  It  might  be  so.  But 
come  to  think,  it  couldn't  be  a  boat.  I 
believe  it  was  a  journey,  for  other  kings 
went  on  crusades  all  by  land.  Well,  as  I 
was  telling  you,  he  went  to  the  Holy 
Land  to  drive  the  Turks  away  from  Jeru 
salem." 

"  I  wish  he'd  come  and  drive  some  of 
the  ' Turks'  off  Smith  Hill,"  Williper 
Mere  interrupted,  irreverently. 

Mamie  Kelley  burst  into  a  ringing 
laugh  and  Williper  Pere  chuckled  over 
his  puzzle.  Little  Jack,  however,  pro 
ceeded  seriously : 

"  You  see,  Mamie,  the  Turks  had 
driven  all  the  Jews  from  Jerusalem,  or  a 
good  part  of  them,  and  occupied  the  Holy 
Sepulchre." 

"  What ! — lived  in  the  grave  ?  "  Mamie 
inquired,  quizzingly. 

"Now  don't  get  funny,"  Little  Jack 
retorted.  "  I  just  tell  you  as  the  story 
runs.  The  book  says  '  occupied  the  Holy 
229 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Sepulchre,'  and  what  it  means  you  can 
guess  as  well  as  I  can.  So  Richard  Cure 
the  Lion  came  along  to  drive  them  out. 
They  had  a  king,  the  Turks  had,  named 
Salladin,  and  he  was  a  dandy.  None  of 
the  crusaders  had  been  able  to  beat  him 
till  Richard  Cure  the  Lion  came  along, 
and  even  Richard  had  a  hard  time 
to  get  the  best  of  him.  This  Salladin 
found  out  after  a  bit  that  it  was  just 
tempting  Providence  to  send  his  best 
fighters  against  Richard  in  the  open  field, 
for  he  would  cut  them  up  in  short  order; 
so  he  made  a  scheme  to  capture  the  Eng 
lish  king.  He  had  a  very  beautiful  black 
horse  that  followed  him  about  just  like  a 
dog,  and  would  never  be  happy  away 
from  him.  So  Salladin  sent  this  horse  to 
Richard  as  a  present." 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  him  for  that," 
Mamie  exclaimed. 

"  You  just  wait  and  see  how  it  comes 
out,"  Little  Jack  retorted. 

Mamie  looked  properly  squelched,  and 
230 


THE  WILLIPERS 

the  cripple  continued :  "  Richard  was 
tickled  to  death  to  get  the  horse,  for  he 
had  never  seen  such  a  glorious  creature 
before,  and  the  next  day  he  must  try  him 
in  the  battle.  So  he  rode  him  out  as 
proud  as  could  be,  but  when  the  horse 
got  the  lay  of  the  land  he  bolted  for  the 
camp  of  the  Turks,  just  as  Salladin  knew 
he  would,  and  Richard  couldn't  hold  him 
back.  He  yanked  on  the  bit,  but  it  was 
no  use,  and  he  saw  that  he  would  be  cap 
tured  sure  if  he  didn't  do  something  quick. 
So  he  slid  to  the  ground  just  as  the  horse 
reached  the  first  regiment  of  Turks,  and 
prepared  to  fight  them  all  alone.  They 
came  at  him  right  and  left,  but  he  laid 
about  him  with  his  battle  axe,  and  every 
time  he  struck  there  was  one  less  Turk. 
My  !  how  he  did  wallop  them  !  He  was 
all  covered  with  blood  and  sweat  when  his 
own  knights  came  to  his  rescue,  and  he 
couldn't  have  held  out  much  longer." 

"Say  !     He  was  a  daisy,  that  Richard, 
wasn't  he?"   Mamie  said.     "That's  the 
231 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

kind  of  a  man  for  me.  I  could  just  have 
loved  that  man." 

"  But  he  was  a  king,  remember,"  said 
Little  Jack. 

"  Well,  supposing  he  was,"  the  girl  re 
torted.  "  If  I  had  been  living  in  those 
days  I  would  have  been  a  queen,  perhaps. 
They  didn't  care  so  much  then  about 
being  poor.  If  a  man  was  strong  and 
brave  and  a  woman  beautiful,  that  was  all 
that  was  required." 

Little  Jack  eyed  his  fair  companion 
proudly. 

"  I  wish  you  was  a  queen,  Mamie,"  he 
said.  "  By  Jimminy  !  I  do.  Say  !  Them 
knights  would  have  all  been  dead  in  love 
with  you,  and  they'd  have  made  you 
c  Queen  of  Youth  and  Beauty '  at  the 
tournament." 

"  What  was  that,  Jacky  ?  " 

"  That  was    the    biggest    time    of  all. 

Every  little  while,  when  the  knights  had 

nobody  to  fight,  they  held  a  tournament. 

They  had  a  grand-stand  just  like  a  base- 

232 


THE  WILLIPERS 

ball  field,  where  all  the  ladies  and  the  old 
men  sat.  Then,  whoever  gave  the  tourna 
ment,  selected  the  finest  looking  girl  in 
the  country  'round  and  made  her  f  Queen 
of  Youth  and  Beauty.'  She  was  to  award 
the  prize  to  the  best  knight. 

"Then  the  knights  fought  on  horse 
back  before  this  grand-stand,  and  the  one 
that  disabled  all  the  others  would  kneel 
before  the  t  Queen  of  Youth  and  Beauty,' 
and  she  would  place  on  his  head  the  wreath 
of  flowers,  which  was  the  prize." 

"  And  did  they  fight  just  for  that  ?  " 

f  *  You  bet  they  did,  and  sometimes  half 
of  them  was  killed." 

"  Those  were  the  men  for  me  !  "  Mamie 
exclaimed  emphatically,  and  her  eyes 
sparkled.  "  If  I  had  been  the  c  Queen  of 
Youth  and  Beauty,'  and  a  fine,  young 
knight,  after  risking  his  life,  had  come  to 
me  claiming  the  prize,  I'd  a  kissed  him 
slap  before  all  the  people,  just  to  show 
how  proud  I  was  of  him.  There  ain't  no 
such  men  now.  Mill  help  and  dry  goods 

233 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

clerks  are  all  I  know,  and  a  silly  lot  they 
are.  There  isn't  one  of  them  man  enough 
to  fight  unless  he  is  in  liquor,  and  instead 
of  fighting  for  a  woman,  they  stand  on 
the  street  corners  and  make  remarks.  Oh, 
I  hate  them  !  " 

"  Ivanhoe  is  the  fellow  you'd  a  been 
stuck  on,"  Little  Jack  said,  with  a  solemn 
shake  of  his  head.  He  was  Richard  Cure 
the  Lion's  bosom  friend,  and  was  always 
looking  for  a  damsel  in  distress,  that  he 
might  fight  for  her.  Irish  or  Swede,  it 
didn't  matter  to  him,  so  long  as  she  hadn't 
any  friends." 

"  Was  he  as  good  a  man  as  King  Rich 
ard  ? "  Mamie  asked. 

"  Well,  he  wasn't  so  strong.  The  king 
was  a  mighty  powerful  man,  but  Ivanhoe 
could  lick  anything  of  his  size  between 
England  and  the  Holy  Land.  I  tell  you, 
I  do  like  to  read  about  him,  'specially 
when  he  fought  O'Brian  Gilbert  for  the 
Jewess  Rebecca." 

"  I   shouldn't  a  thought  he'd  a  fought 

234 


THE  WILLIPERS 

for  a  Sheeny,"  Mamie  said,  with  typical 
Smith  Hill  contempt  for  the  children  of 
the  Ghetto. 

"  They  didn't  call  'em  Sheenies  then," 
Little  Jack  continued  seriously,  "  though 
perhaps  they  ought  to,  for  Rebecca's 
father  was  a  regular  out  and  outer.  His 
name  was  Isaac,  and  he  was  always  sneak 
ing  around  and  wringing  his  hands  just 
like  a  Sheeny  at  a  rag  sale.  But  Rebecca 
was  a  lady,  and  she  was  as  pretty  as  a  pic 
ture,  too." 

"  That  accounts  for  it,"  Mamie  put  in 
with  vigor.  "  Had  she  been  homely 
your  brave  Ivanhoe  wouldn't  have  crossed 
the  square  for  her.  They'll  all  make  a 
bluff  at  fighting  for  a  good-looking  girl, 
be  she  Sheeny  or  Mulatto;  but  if  her 
face  is  plain,  just  watch  'em  jump  the 
fence !  " 

"Well,  you  know  better  than  I  do," 
Little  Jack  shrewdly  suggested,  and  then 
continued:  "  Ivanhoe  never  asked  for  re 
wards,  anyhow,  and  when  he  whipped 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

O' Brian  Gilbert,  he  never  made  any 
motion  for  thanks." 

"  But  what  became  of  Rebecca?  "  Mamie 
asked. 

"  Now  that's  a  puzzler,"  Little  Jack 
replied.  She  just  dropped  out  of  sight, 
but  between  me  and  you,  I  think  she'd  a 
had  Ivanhoe  had  he  asked  her." 

"  I've  got  it  at  last,  by  gravy  ! "  came 
in  a  triumphant  voice  from  the  chair  near 
the  window,  and  turning,  they  saw  Willi- 
per  Pere  holding  aloft  the  puzzle,  the  rings 
securely  interlocked. 

"  Well,  you're  a  fool  to  spend  your 
whole  morning  working  over  a  silly  thing 
like  that,"  Williper  Mere  said  with  em 
phasis. 

"  But  you  see,"  her  worthy  husband 
replied  with  conviction,  "  I  started  it  and 
I  just  couldn't  give  it  up  till  I  done  it." 

Dinner  was  now  on  the  table,  and  the 

party  fell  to.      I  was  just  going  to    say, 

"  Never  was  there  such  a  turkey  !  "  when 

I  thought  of  Dickens.     Isn't  it  too  bad 

236 


THE  WILLIPERS 

that  he  said  all  the  good  things  and  the 
rest  of  us  must  go  'round  the  lighthouse 
for  an  expression! 

Anyhow,  Little  Jack  was  very  happy, 
and  Williper  Pere  ate  a  very  great  deal. 
Williper  Mere  smiled  tirelessly  and  poured 
tea,  while  Mamie  described  the  wonderful 
agility  of  the  King  of  the  Bounding  Wire, 
whom  she  had  seen  at  Keith's  the  preced 
ing  week. 

"  If  I  ever  grow  to  be  a  man,"  Little 
Jack  said  with  conviction,  "  I  don't  know 
which  I'd  rather  be — a  king  or  that  fellow. 
What  a  man  he  must  be ! " 

"  You're  a  crazy-head,"  Williper  Mere 
said  fondly.  "  But  he  wouldn't  be  the 
man  for  me.  A  feller  jumpin'  up  an' 
down  on  a  wire  !  Pshaw !  Give  me  the  man 
as  makes  his  two  dollars  a  day  regular  an' 
brings  it  home  to  his  wife.  He's  good 
enough  for  such  poor  old  bodies  as  I  be." 

"  But  what  if  he  only  makes  a  dollar 
and  seventy-five  cents  ?  "  Williper  Pere 
asked,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

237 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

"  Well,"  his  wife  replied  slowly,  "  there 
are  dollar-and-seventy-five-cent  men  and 
dollar-and-seventy-five-cent  men.  But 
don't  you  bother  no  trouble,  Henry.  I 
ain't  thinkin'  of  applyin'  for  divorce." 

Mamie  went  home  at  8:30,  when  the 
fire  died  down. 


The  Wolf  at  the  Door 

In  the  aftermath  of  the  Williper's 
Thanksgiving  Dinner,  distressful  things 
happened.  The  economic  world  turned 
over,  and  Williper  Pere  fell  out  of  his 
berth.  The  thread  mill  at  which  he  had 
worked  for  so  many  years  found  its  orders 
suddenly  cut  off  in  volume,  and  it  was 
found  necessary  to  discharge  one-third  of 
the  employes.  Williper  Pere  lost  his  job. 

The  little  tenement  in  the  alley  off  Bull 
Dog  Square  was  the  scene  of  great  de 
pression  in  consequence.  The  head  of  the 
family  had  never  been  out  of  work  before, 
and  he  did  not  know  which  way  to  turn. 
He  was  a  dresser  tender,  and  this  especial 
occupation  he  knew  well.  He  felt  that 
he  might  be  able  to  do  other  things,  but 
his  confidence  was  not  of  an  inspiring 

239 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

quality.  As  a  producer  he  was  only  one- 
third  of  a  man.  Machinery  was  the  other 
two-thirds,  and  the  first  proportion  had 
come  to  rely  greatly  upon  the  other. 

He  spent  the  first  week  of  loafing  by 
tramping  through  Pawtucket  and  the 
other  factory  towns  of  the  State,  looking 
for  a  job  similar  to  the  one  he  had  lost. 
There  were  no  vacancies.  No  one  wanted 
a  man.  Dresser  tenders  were  a  drug  in 
the  market.  So  also  were  mill  operatives 
of  every  description,  for  Hard  Times  were 
abroad  in  the  land. 

Mamie  Kelley  came  down  from  Smith 
Hill  to  condole  with  the  wretched  Willi- 
pers,  but  she  was  not  cheerful.  The  sword 
hung  over  her  head  also,  and  she  worked 
in  fear  and  trembling. 

"  Williper  has  just  simply  got  to  find 
something  to  do,  or  we  will  be  in  the 
street,"  Williper  Mere  said  with  marked 
decision. 

"That's  it,"    returned    Williper   Pere. 
"I've  just  simply  got  to." 
240 


THE  WILLIPERS 

"  What's  the  matter  with  everything?  " 
Little  Jack  asked  anxiously. 

"  That's  just  what  we'd  all  like  to 
know,"  Mamie  replied.  "  I  don't  know, 
for  one.  The  mills  have  no  orders.  The 
country  is  scared.  They  say  we  make 
more  stuff  than  the  people  can  use.  It's 
a  stone  wall  to  me.  I  don't  know  what 
I'll  do  if  I  lose  my  own  job.  I  ain't  got 
a  soul  to  fall  back  on." 

"  You  come  and  live  with  us,  then  ! " 
cried  Little  Jack. 

The  girl  kissed  his  wasted  cheek  and 
broke  into  tears.  This  started  Williper 
Mere,  and  she  was  soon  sobbing  in  con 
cert.  Williper  Pere  felt  the  corners  of 
his  mouth  twitch,  but  he  realized  that  it 
was  not  manly  to  cry.  So  he  bravely  re 
sisted  the  temptation. 

"  Jack  is  right,  Mamie,"  he  said.  "  You 
come  and  live  with  us.  We'll  get  on 
somehow." 

The  next  week  Mamie  Kelley  followed 
her  trunk,  pushed  in  a  wheelbarrow  by 
241 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Williper  Pere  to  the  latter's  home.     The 
sword  had  fallen ! 

The  immediate  present  was  not  to  be 
feared,  for  both  Mamie  and  the  Willipers 
had  a  rainy-day  fund  in  the  savings  bank. 
But  it  was  like  cutting  teeth  to  draw  upon 
this. 

Day  after  day  the  man  and  the  girl  went 
through  the  Square  into  the  city  looking 
for  employment.  They  tried  the  indus 
trial  bureaus,  but  quickly  caught  on  to  the 
game  played  there.  Up  and  down  they 
walked,  looking  everywhere,  and  each 
night  related  their  experiences  to  Williper 
Mere  and  Little  Jack. 

"It's  just  like  this,"  Mamie  once  said, 
"the  world  ain't  got  no  use  for  us.  No 
body  wants  us,  or  cares  whether  we  live 
or  die.  I  feel,  when  goin'  'round,  just  as 
if  I  was  outside  a  big  walled  city  with  iron 
gates.  Inside  everything  is  lovely.  Out 
side  it's  misery. 

"  I   goes  up   to  the  man  at  one  of  the 
gates  and  says,  'Let  me  in,  please.' 
242 


THE  WILLIPERS 

"  He  says,  (  No,  you  can't  go  in ;  there 
ain't  room  for  another  soul  inside  just  at 
present.' 

"  *  But  I  want  to  get  in  awful  bad,'  I 
says  to  him. 

" c  I  can't  help  it,'  he  says.  '  Don't 
blame  me.  I'd  let  you  in  fast  enough  if 
I  could,  but  I  just  can't.' 

"  So  'round  an'  'round  the  walls  I  go, 
tryin'  a  gate  here  and  a  gate  there,  but 
always  the  same,  with  variations,  for  one 
sends  you  away  gentle  like,  and  another 
scowls  as  much  as  to  say,  t  How  dare  you 
ask  such  a  thing  ! ' 

"If  Richard  Cure  the  Lion  was  only 
living  !  "  cried  Little  Jack.  "  He'd  knock 
in  a  gate  with  his  battle-axe  mighty  lively, 
I  tell  you  !  He  wouldn't  take  no  back 
talk !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  Mamie,  "  now  is  when 
I  feel  if  I  only  had  a  man  behind  me." 

"  Yes,  and  a  kitchen  full  of  young 
'uns  !  "  Williper  Mere  returned,  with  fine 
scorn.  "  You're  well  off  as  you  be,  Mamie 

243 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

Kelley,  I  tell  you  that.  Hungry  babies 
is  what  gnaws  the  heart  out,  folks  tells 
me  as  knows.  'Tis  what  keeps  the  Irish 
down,  havin'  such  terrible  families.  Now 
there's  Bridget  O'Shay — she  that  was 
Beazie  McCarthy, — you  remember,  Willi- 
per.  She  worked  next  spooler  to  me  for 
years.  A  rosy-cheeked  girl  was  Beazie 
McCarthy  when  she  married  Mike 
O'Shay.  Seven  children  she  had  in  as 
many  years,  and  look  at  her  now  !  You 
mind  me,  Mamie  Kelley,  and  don't  you 
fret  about  gettin'  married.  It's  the  natural 
curse  of  the  Irish — I  mean  the  children  as 
follows." 

A  scratching  sound  was  now  audible  in 
the  hall. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  Little  Jack  inquired, 
pricking  up  his  ears. 

"It's  'the  wolf  at  the  door!'"  Willi- 
per  Pere  replied  with  a  grin. 

This  is  the  first  joke  ever  known  to 
have  been  uttered  by  Williper  Pere.  A 
gruesome  joke  it  was,  and  it  set  the 
244 


THE  WILLIPERS 

shivers  chasing  one  another  up  Little 
Jack's  spine.  It  clung  to  the  boy's  mem 
ory,  too,  and  haunted  him  continually 
throughout  that  winter. 

The  wolf  at  the  door !  Oh,  that  terrible 
wolf  at  the  door !  When  Williper  Pere 
would  sit  by  the  fire  of  an  evening  with 
head  bowed  in  despair,  and  the  two  women 
sat  by  the  table  sewing  feverishly  on 
sweat-shop  clothes,  Little  Jack,  feeling 
strangely  depressed,  would  close  his  eyes 
and  in  fancy  hear  the  gnawing,  gnawing 
of  that  hungry  wolf  and  see  its  clammy 
nose  poking  through  the  crack  it  had 
made. 

When  the  funds  in  the  savings  bank 
were  exhausted,  all  the  family  had  to  de 
pend  on  was  the  little  that  Williper  Mere 
and  Mamie  could  earn  with  their  needles, 
and  even  this  ill  -  paid  labor  was  not 
enough  in  volume  to  keep  them  busy. 
A  God-send  in  the  shape  of  a  snowstorm 
was  the  means  of  Williper  Pere  earning 
four  dollars.  How  he  revelled  in  his 
245 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

work !  It  was  so  good  to  be  earning 
money  again.  But  the  sun  soon  destroyed 
this  source  of  revenue,  and  he  took  to  the 
streets  again.  He  made  a  practice  of 
visiting  each  of  the  mills  once  every  week, 
and  his  face  soon  became  known.  He  had 
no  longer  to  state  his  business,  but  simply 
to  show  his  face  at  the  office  window,  to 
be  met  by  the  curt  remark,  "  No  help 
wanted  to-day." 

Now  let  it  be  remembered  that  through 
out  this  miserable  ordeal,  Williper  Pere 
did  not  cry  out  against  the  rich,  or  spend 
any  of  his  time  reflecting  on  the  injustice 
of  natural  laws.  He  did  not  concern  him 
self  at  all  about  other  men's  affairs,  but 
took  it  for  granted  that  he  must  either 
find  work  or  starve.  In  his  way  he  was 
fiercely  selfish,  for  he  met  hundreds  of 
other  men  whose  situation  was  even  more 
desperate  than  his  own,  without  extending 
to  them  any  considerable  sympathy.  They 
must  do  the  best  they  could.  He  did 
not  stop  to  ask  them  how  many  helpless 
246 


THE  WILLIPERS 

children  they  had,  but  thought  solely  of 
his  own  Little  Jack,  and  kept  his  own 
secrets  as  to  the  possibilities  of  em 
ployment  which  he  discovered  in  his 
rounds. 

It  might  be  termed  maudlin  pathos  if 
an  attempt  were  made  to  describe  the 
scenes  at  home  when  he  would  return 
with  springing  step  and  report  that  at  one 
of  the  mills  he  had  been  told  to  come 
around  in  the  morning,  as  there  might  be 
a  chance.  Williper  Mere,  at  such  times, 
would  bustle  around  vigorously  and  get 
up  a  meal  just  a  little  above  the  average. 
Mamie  would  do  up  her  wealth  of  auburn- 
hued  tresses  especially  fine,  just  as  if  she 
meditated  again  showing  herself  to  the 
world,  and  Little  Jack  would  ripple  with 
delight,  and  chatter  like  a  robin  arrived 
after  a  long  winter. 

But  we  know  these  chances  did  not 
materialize.  Still  Williper  Pere  kept  at 
it,  never  giving  up  hope,  doggedly  deter 
mined  to  find  work. 

247 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

They  were  now  in  debt  to  their  green 
grocer,  and  lived  in  constant  dread  of  a 
withdrawal  of  credit.  Brave  as  he  was  in 
looking  for  work,  Williper  Pere  did  not 
possess  the  nerve  to  do  the  shopping.  He 
could  not  say  the  words,  "  Please  put  it  on 
the  book ! " 

Williper  Mere,  however,  rose  to  the 
occasion,  and  though  every  time  she  en 
tered  the  market  her  heart  beat  furiously, 
she  forced  sunshine  into  her  face  and 
spoke  pleasantly  to  the  awful  groceryman, 
bidding  him  be  of  good  cheer,  for  "  Wil 
liper  would  certainly  get  a  job  soon,  as 
times  was  lookin'  up." 

"  Times  were  looking  up  !  "  God  bless 
your  stout  heart,  Williper  Mere. 

There  was  a  line  one  hundred  yards 
long  before  the  headquarters  of  the  Over 
seer  of  the  Poor  each  morning, — a  line  of 
one-meal-a-day  men  and  women,  with 
empty  baskets ;  and  the  preachers  in 
churches,  high  and  low,  no  longer 
preached  sermons,  but  pled  and  prayed 
248 


THE  WILLIPERS 

and  stormed  at  their  congregations  that 
they  must  open  their  hearts  and  give,  for 
men,  women  and  children — their  fellow 
citizens — were  dying  daily  of  cold  and 
hunger. 

Then  the  end  came,  and  the  terrors  of 
the  wolf  at  the  door  vanished  for  Little 
Jack.  It  was  all  so  simple,  too.  Willi- 
per  Pere  got  the  job  of  assistant  box 
maker  and  man  of  all  work  in  Mamie 
Kelley's  woolen  mill.  His  wages  were  to 
be  seven  dollars  a  week  until  times  got 
better. 

Williper  Mere  and  Mamie  danced 
crazily  together  on  receipt  of  the  good 
news,  and  Little  Jack  clapped  his  hands 
and  joined  in  the  commotion  with  lusty 
lungs. 

Seven  dollars  a  week !  They  could  live 
on  six  and  pay  the  remaining  dollar  on 
the  bug-a-boo  grocery  bill. 

The  peace  of  heaven  was  in  their  hearts 
that  night  when  they  slept,  and  the  next 
morning  Williper  Pere  was  off  half  an 
249 


A  BUNDLE  OF  YARNS 

hour  ahead  of  time,  swinging  his  dinner 
pail  ostentatiously.  He  was  a  proud 
man — a  vain  man — a  wholly  happy  man. 
He  had  a  job  ! 

The  everlasting  gates,  which  had  been 
closed  so  long,  had  lifted  up  their  heads 
and  he  had  gone  in. 


DATE  DUE 


••wwni      ; 

FEB    a 

'   1961 

flEC'D  JAN  1 

11982 

GAVLORD 

PRINTED  IN  U    S   A 

3  1970  00483  3155 


0306958 


